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“AS THE BISHOP SAW IT.”
FROM AMERICA TO ROME.
LETTERS OF THE
RIGHT REV. C. H. BORGESS , D. D.,
Late Bishop of Detroit, Describing His Trip to
Rome in 1877.
EDITED BY
VERY REV. FRANK A. O’BRIEN.
PUBLISHED FOR THE
Benefit of Borgess Hospital.
PAULY, FUCHS & CO.,
Detroit, Mich.
(A >• v-
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TRIBUTE
OF
FILIAL RESPECT AND GRATITUDE
TO THE PASTOR OF MY EARLY YEARS, TO WHOM AFTER GOD
I OWE THE GRACE OF MY VOCATION TO
THE PRIESTHOOD,
THE RIGHT REVEREND MONSIGNORE,
EDWARD JOOS 9
VICAR GENERAL OF THE DIOCESE OF DETROIT,
IS THIS VOLUME AFFECTIONATELY
DEDICATED.
F. A. O’B.
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PEEFAOE.
Right Rev. Caspar Henry Borgess, D. D., the late
Bishop of Detroit, Michigan, visited Rome in 1877, in
compliance with the General Law of the Church,
which requires, at certain stated times, an account of
the administration of a Bishop.
He was accompanied by his Chancellor, Very
Rev. Henry J. H. Schutjes, several clergymen of his
Diocese, and the venerable Mr. J. B. Mauntel, of St.
Louis, Mo., a warm personal friend. After his death,
a complete file of his letters, descriptive of this trip,
were found. They were deemed worthy of publica-
tion. It is our pleasure to present them to his friends.
f. a. o’b.
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COITTEITTS.
LETTER I.
Outward Bound 9
LETTER II.
Paris — Louvain — The University — The City Hall
— Visit to the Convent of the Sacred Heart. 13
LETTER III.
Eating houses — Night in a foreign car — Lourdes
— The Grotto 19
LETTER IV.
Rome — St. Peter’s — The tomb of the Apostles.. 27
LETTER V.
Rome — Golden jubilee of His Holiness Pope Pius
IX . 34
LETTER VI.
Rotne — St. Peter’s of the chains — St. Clement’s —
St. John Lateran — Scala Sancta — St. Paul’s
of the three fountains 38
LETTER VII.
Rome — The audience with His Holiness Pope Pius
IX — The Quirrinal — St. Mary Major’s 47
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LETTER VIII.
Rome — Basilica of the Holy Cross — Catacombs
— Church of the Holy Trinity 56
LETTER IX.
Rome — Tivoli — The people. 66
LETTER X.
Naples — Pompeii — Mt. Vesuvius... 72
LETTER XI.
Venice — Loretto — Peasants 82
LETTER XII.
Bardonecchia — Mt. Cenis tunnel — Milan Cathe-
dral 89
LETTER XIII.
Geneva — Its Cathedral — Basel — Stuttgart — Frie-
burg — Ulm — Augsburg — Aschaff enburg 96
LETTER XIV.
Mainz — St. Christopher’s Church — Rev. Graf Von
Gallen — The Cathedral 108
LETTER XV.
Munich — Franciscan Church — Its Art galleries.. 114
LETTER XVI.
Cologne — Coblentz — Bonn — The Cathedral — The
Holy Magi — St. Peter’s Church — St. Ursula
— St. Gereon 120
LETTER XVII.
Osnabruck — Cathedral — Munster — Telgte — Wesel. 130
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LETTER XVIII.
Amsterdam — Its Cathedral and Market — Rotter-
dam — Erasmus — The Hague 137
LETTER XIX.
Hertogenbosch — Orthe 148
LETTER XX.
Antwerp — Rubens — Art galleries 154
LETTER XXL
Brussels — St. Gudule’s Church — Tournay — Rt.
Rev. Dr. Dumont — Bois d’ Haine — Its Pastor
— Louise Lateau 160
LETTER XXII.
Louise Lateau 174
LETTER XXIII.
Ghent — The Beguinage — Bruges — Relic of the
Precious Blood 189
LETTER XXIV.
London — The Churches — Cardinal Manning 199
LETTER XXV.
Liverpool 205
LETTER XXVI.
Dublin — Intemperance — Cardinal Cullen — Father
Burke — Glasnevin — All Hallows — Holy Cross
College — Industrial School 210
LETTER XXVII.
Drogheda — Dundalk — Belfast — Shank’s Hill.... 219
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LETTER XXVIII.
The new Cathedral — The great collection 228
LETTER XXIX.
Armagh — St. Patrick’s Cathedral 234
LETTER XXX.
Mullingar — Athlone — Galway 240
LETTER XXXI.
Ennis — Limerick 248
LETTER XXXII.
Cork — Killarney — Mallow 253
LETTER XXXIII.
Blarney Castle — Homeward bound 261
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“AS THE BISHOP SAW IT.”
i.
On Board the Steamer “ City of Berlin )
May 4, 1877. j
Six full days have been spent in the enjoyment
of “life on the ocean wave.” This moment many
persons are busy describing the scenes and inci-
dents which have so pleasantly transpired among
the passengers, now almost feeling toward one
another as if they were one great family. Our
good old friend, feeling confident of a favorable
report about himself, requests me to write to the
folks at home, the compliance with which affords
me great pleasure. The cold, rainy and gloom*
weather gave us a dismal start from New York
on last Saturday, pre-shadowing a speedy invita-
tion of the sea-faring ordeal, so generally and
justly anticipated by all who have not beeh
taught the contrary by experience.
It continued all day Sunday. The sea being
pretty rough, the representation on deck and at
meals was rather slim. Among those who ven-
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10 "AS THE BISHOP SAW IT."
tured out into the fresh air were many who
looked, in the words of a fine old gentleman from
Kentucky, “as if all their relations had died.”
Mr. M. has so far disappointed himself and his
friends. He felt sure that he would be a victim
of the prevailing contagion. He complained of
feeling dizzy and even now will not venture
enjoying the grand swing of the steamer from
aloft, yet so far he has been prompt in obeying
the breakfast, dinner and supper bell. We have
the honor of the company of the Right Reverend
Bishops Krautbauer, of Green Bay, and Seiden-
i busch, of Northern Minnesota, Rev. Messrs.
Lemagie, Griffin, Edwards, Kearney, and Abbot
Edelbrock — a clerical party of twelve on board
the steamer.
There is a lively discussion going on now
about the arrival of the latest news and very nat-
urally everybody crowded up to the reporter,
who gives the minutest details about the school
of whales seen this morning.
“That’s too bad!” impatiently exclaimed one
of the lady passengers, “I’ve almost strained my
eyes looking for them, ever since we are on the
ocean, and there, they are gone!” I confess that
I sympathized with the many, and shared some in
the disappointment of not having risen at an
earlier hour for the enjoyment of the sight. But
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"AS THE BISHOP SA W IT."
11
stepping aside, I inquired of one of the tars about
the whale story, who said: “No — oh it was a
kind of black fish that looks some like a whale.”
But the whale story having been fairly started .
gained credence, until many believed that though
they could not see the creatures, yet “the stream
of water sent up as the whales plunged along
left no doubt of their identity-.” Only a few
enjoyed the privilege of the sight, and the affair
began to remind one of ghost stories, the appa-
ritions being the gift of a certain ominous class.
At sea the most insignificant events seem to
amuse everybody, and become the topic of the
day. The vessels and steamers which pass by
are watched with marvellous delight. The great-
est number which we saw in one day was eleven
vessels and two steamers. There being so many
individuals engaged in drawing a pen picture of
the voyage, the company, the sayings and doings,
the joys and sorrows, the likes and dislikes, and
the innumerable items noted, I fancy that, if they
could be collected, and a copy presented to
every one on board, the exhibit would be of the
most amusing kind, and a sure cure for dyspepsia.
Much of the time is spent, on board a ship, in
walking on the upper deck. The grouping of
parties, the serious mien of some, the gay and
merry deportment of others, and the general dis-
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“AS THE BISHOP SA W IT."
play of dispositions and character, is not the least
interesting study on board a steamer. The same
observations may be made in the smoking room,
where every table is occupied by card players
and contestants in the game of chess or checkers.
It is, evidently, a little world of a peculiar type,
in which good humor prevails.
Kind feelings are sumptuously nursed, and the
friendship toward one another seems to be
stamped with more than ordinary sincerity.
“We are making good time,” says Capt. Ken-
nedy, “and prospects bid fair that we will make
a quick voyage across the ocean.” These words
cheer every passenger with the delightful antici-
pation of the pleasure of soon seeing land. * *
c. H. B.
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II.
Paris, May 12, i 8 jj.
At half past nine o’clock last evening we
arrived in this city, which our friend declares to
be the greatest city in the world. Since my last,
mailed in Queenstown, we have paid a railroad
visit to the cities of Liverpool, London and
Dover in England, Ostende, Bruges, Ghent, Brus-
sels and Louvain in Belgium, besides the many
cities, towns and villages along the railroad line,
which, I think, average about one in every mile’s
distance in those countries. In England, as well
as in Belgium and France, the country through
which the railroad passes is one continuous gar
den in the highest state of cultivation, every foot
of soil being utilized to the best advantage.
The people in the gardens and fields at the early
hour of four in the morning, hoeing, weeding,
etc., bear evidence of the care and perseverance
used in making sure, with God’s blessing, of an
abundant harvest. The farm houses are gener-
ally constructed of brick, one story high, a few
have a garret story; some of the older houses are
built of wood, plastered with clay, which are gen-
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"AS THE BISHOP SA W IT."
erally roofed with straw and frequently beauti-
fied with a vigorous growth of moss, evincing a
grand old age. They are ordinarily surrounded
by the stables, barns and out-houses for farm pur-
poses, the whole forming a square of greater
or less dimensions, according to the means or
wants of the owners, and have the appearance
of simplicity and comfort. The spring of the
year, it is true, exhibits the gardens and fields to
their best advantage. The foliage is fresh, and
developing its full vigor; the youthful, thriving
and beautiful appearance of nature in festive
robes, lends it a charm which challenges the
greatest admiration. But industry and skill, add-
ing to this grandeur, makes it as near as possible
to our idea — an earthly paradise.
,Rev. Fr. A., being desirous of visiting his aged
parent, who resides in the village of Nethen, all
our party cheerfully consented to retire for a
few days into solitude. Such it was, indeed, for
every one but Rev. Fr. A., who had the great
happiness of embracing his beloved father, and
being in the midst of his brothers and all the
dear ones of the family.
Our arrival soon became an event in the vil-
lage. The surprise of the few who had first seen
us walking on foot from the station, braving
the rain and mud, led to the inquiry and soon to
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“AS THE BISHOP SA W ITT 15
the discovery of the character and mission of the
strangers, and young and old continued on the
watch for a more satisfactory examination, as
any one of us would venture out of doors. Our
proficiency in the Flemish language was insuffi-
cient for us to enter into a brisk conversation
with the people, consequently we shared the
usual misfortune of being supposed to be deaf,
and everybody addressing us believed it neces-
sary to shout at us, and we were obliged to bow,
and smile graciously in response to this torture.
Every country has its own peculiar manners
and customs. This is proved strikingly true in
this village, where the manners, dress and gen-
eral deportment of the people are very simple,
and the hypocrisy of fashionable life, called civil-
ization, has not poisoned the innocent heart.
On the Feast of the Ascension, we had the hap-
piness of officiating in the church dedicated to
St. John the Baptist, and built more than a
century ago. It is probable that devotion and
curiosity united in bringing such a large crowd
to the seven o’clock mass, the church being well
filled; but the Sisters of Providence, who teach
in the Parochial school, were the only communi-
cants during the mass.
The ceremonial observed by the people during
divine service is peculiar to the country, and can
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"AS THE BISHOP SA W IT."
only be edifying to those who are accustomed to
it, especially the rattle of the chairs, used
both for kneeling and sitting, whipped about as
the purpose required, and the use made of them.
Louvain is but a small city, though it hath
ancient and modern renown in literature. The
first University, established by Pope Martin V,
December 9, 1425, was formally opened on the
7th of September, 1426, and was frequented by
6,000 students in the sixteenth century. After
the occupation of Belgium by the French, the
University was closed on the 25th of October,
1797, the library scattered and the property con-
signed to the National Domain. The present
Catholic University was opened on the 1st of
December, 1835, with 261 students, and is sup-
ported by the voluntary contributions of the
clergy and laity of Belgium. St. Peter’s church
is a truly beautiful structure of Gothic archi-
tecture, but sadly in need of repairs. The sev-
eral altars in it are masterpieces of workmanship.
Two of the paintings, in particular, reveal, at a
glance, that the genius and hand of an artist
created them. Three others, said to be still
more artistic, were curtained from view, my com-
panion remarking: “Ah! You can see, but you
must pay.” We visited St. Michael’s, and the
church of the Jesuit Fathers, which are both
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"AS THE BISHOP SA IV IT." 17
handsome church edifices, but of modern date,
and built in the Roman style. The library of
the University is immense, and contains some of
the rarest treasures, but time did not permit us
to give them more than a hurried inspection.
The city hall in Louvain, immediately opposite
St. Peter’s church, is alone worth a visit to the
continent. It is a genuine Gothic masterpiece of
architecture; majestic in appearance; a synopsis
of the history of the Bible, from the day of cre-
ation to the era of redemption in the statuary on
the outer walls, not of ordinary merit, but mag-
nificent in every detail; and from the foundation
of the building to the very summit every inch of
space is occupied by such a statue, as far as the
ornaments of Gothic architecture would permit.
The whole looks catholic and sublime.
Having attended to the necessary business
transactions in Paris, we lost no time in visiting
St. Magdalen’s church, so much and so generally
lauded by travelers on the continent. We ma}’
be wanting in the appreciation of the sublime,
(for tastes differ) but the edifice did not impress
us as we anticipated and we went away without
the least rapture over the grandeur seen. We
continued our drive to the crystal palace and
around the beautiful public square; saw the
grand hotel, “Des Invalides,” and paid a visit to
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“AS THE BISHOP SA W ITT
Madame Hardy in the “ Mother House” of the
Ladies of the Sacred Heart, which is opposite
the Hotel des Invalides. We accepted the invi-
tation of saying mass in the Convent chapel on
Sunday morning, and will have the pleasure of
seeing the nine American Sisters after breakfast.
My traveling companions accompanied me to the
Novitiate of the Ladies of the Sacred Heart,
which is about six miles from the Mother
House, yet within the environs of the city. The
two American novices seemed delighted to see
us; the inquiries about home and friends endless;
and “ supremely happy in enjoying an American
conversation,” as one of them remarked. Both
assured us of their perfect happiness in religion,
and that they anxiously looked forward to the
day of their final consecration to the Divine
Spouse in their religious profession.
To-morrow evening we start from here for
Lourdes, our company from Holland having
arrived. It will consist of six priests and three
laymen. Adieu! c. h. b.
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III.
Lourdes, May 15, iSjj.
Having left Paris in the evening we had
our first experience in “premiere classe” cars.
The American sleeping car, though justly consid-
ered a luxury at home, is only truly appreciated
when keenly awake at four o’clock in the morn-
ing, the rocking headache and cruel fatigue, are
the poor consolation that the worry of the night
is nearly over. It is delightful to hear the brake-
man sing out, “Bordeaux!”
“Fifteen minutes for refreshments!” sounds
even more agreeable, and all hasten into the buf-
fet to enjoy a breakfast which stands smoking
hot on the table. One of the waiters, standing
on an elevation in the room, sings out: “Encore
dix minutes!” and again, “Encore cing minutes!”
giving the passenger the warning for the train,
thus avoiding the inhuman hurry of swallowing
down the meal as it often happens in America.
In this portion of France the cultivation of the
grape-vine is carried on by everybody on a larger
or smaller scale. This industry seems to be the
great harvest on which their prosperity or pov-
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"AS THE BISHOP SA IV IT."
erty entirely depends. The soil, from Bordeaux
to Dax, is evidently very poor, and it reminds
us strongly of the northern portion of Michigan,
along the railroad line north of Bay City, where
the “jack-pine” flourishes, which also abounds
here. But even the “jack -pine” is utilized by
the economical French, every tree being tapped
for resin, like the maple trees at home. From
Dax to Lourdes the track winds through a
mountainous country, and the scenery is as
grand as it is varied. Viewing the magnificent
near yet distant snow-capped mountains, and the
superb valleys, hundreds of feet below the train
in which we are, a thrill of awe steals over us
in the very admiration of Nature’s grandeur.
We are in Lourdes. It is but a small town,
having from 4,000 to 5,000 inhabitants; narrow,
winding, dirty streets; dingy-looking houses and
only one clean, comfortable hotel, which has been
but lately built. The omnibus driver seemed
anxious in having us go elsewhere, but we insist-
ing on going to the one nearest the grotto. We
settled down in the new and only decent-looking
house in town, — Hotel de la Grotte.
Having in part disposed of the cargo of dust,
and being refreshed by a hearty dinner, we
repaired to the grotto at 4:30 p. M. It was pour-
ing rain. The'moment a person steps out of the
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"AS THE BISHOP SA IV IT.'’
21
gates, on the road to the grotto, he is sur-
rounded by the venders of wax candles and other
articles of devotion, “ Pour la grotte ” and this
importunate nonsense (as it seemed to me) con-
tinued, most the whole way to the sanctuary of
miracles. From the bridge across the river the
ascent to the grand church, called the “ Basilica
of Lourdes,” and built by the side of the moun-
tains opposite the town, begins. Following the
road for some distance, you meet the cross-roads,
the right of which leads to the grotto. Descend-
ing, one soon hears the murmuring of the mystic
spring of the miraculous waters of Lourdes.
The cave at the foot of the mountains and in the
rocks is the chapel of nature into which Berna-
dette retired to speak in prayer with God, and
to enjoy, in this solitude, the company of
Heaven’s host, who surround His throne of eter-
nal glory. This cave chapel remains intact, and
has but received a plain stone wall, mounted by
an iron railing at the entrance. It is small; —
fifteen to twenty persons kneeling in it, crowd it.
In the center stands a circular chandelier, on
which the smaller votive candles burn, and
toward the right side, near the rock, there are
several rows of very large votive wax candles
burning. Near the right angle corner is a pretty
large, almost round, opening in the rock of the
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"AS THE BISHOP SA W IT."
cave. Through this opening the Blessed Virgin
Mary appeared to Bernadette, and from there
the statue representing the Immaculate Mother,
as she appeared, is now seen by the pilgrim
kneeling in the grotto. At the very first
moment that one views this miraculous Grotto,
the eye rests on the many, many trophies
deposited there by the afflicted who returned to
their homes and friends restored to perfect
health. The walking-canes, the crutches, the
braces, the trusses, the innumerable other articles
which science has invented in support of ailing
humanity, line the walls and decorate ever}?
available space in the grotto, and publish the
miracles wrought through the intercession of the
Immaculate Mother of God. In the right angle
corner of the cave, and to the left of the above-
mentioned opening, the miraculous spring ap-
peared, and has since been conducted along the
semi-circle of the Cave to the front on the left
side, where it pours forth a heavy stream of
water into a stone basin prepared for that
purpose.
Here the V. Rev. Superior of the congregation
of the Priests of the Mission, as they are called,
who are in charge of the Basilica and of the
Grotto met us and invited us up to the church.
We began to climb the steep ascent in the midst
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23
of a pouring rain, and entering the basement of
the church, we saw the row of confessionals, and
came to the altar, which stands immediately over
the immense rocks — the very spot on which the
Blessed Virgin appeared, and beneath which the
miraculous spring pours forth. Before this altar,
as well as in the Grotto, we found several persons
offering the yearning of an afflicted heart, or the
emotions of burning gratitude to the Throne of
Mercy, through the intercession of the Immacu-
late Mother of God. Ascending into the Basilica
or church proper, we rejoiced to see it decorated
with banners, from the peak of the' ceiling to the
ground, carried and deposited there by pilgrims.
Our American flag occupies a place on the Gos-
pel side above the main altar. The banner
offered by the first pilgrimage from America is
suspended on the same side, nearly in the center
of the church. On the grand arch spanning the
main aisle and over the grand altar the names of
the twelve apostles are inscribed in large letters,
formed of hearts of gold, the votive offerings of
persons who had received favors and blessings,
through the intercession of Our Lady of Lourdes.
On the morning of May 15th, at 6 o’clock, I had
the happiness of offering the Holy Sacrifice of the
mass on the altar in the basement of the church
as stated, immediately over the grotto, V. Rev.
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24 "AS THE BISHOP SA VV IT. T
S. and Rev. A. saying mass at the same time on
the altars at the right and left of this altar.
Many of the votive offerings on this altar are
costly and superb; the three altar cards are
encircled with a wreath of large diamonds and
other precious stones. Having secured a few sil-
ver medals of Our Lady of Lourdes, we returned
to the cave chapel — the grotto — dipped them
into the water of the spring, placed them on the
rock on which the Blessed Virgin appeared and
performed our farewell devotion. On account of
the extensive tour before us, we could only ven-
ture on filling a small flask with the water from
the fountain of Lourdes.
The Blessed Virgin appeared eighteen times to
Bernadette Soubirous — on the nth and the 15th
of February, 1858; from the 18th of February to
the 4th of March every day, except two days; on
the 25th of March, on the 5th of April and the
1 6th of July. The Blessed Virgin said to Berna-
dette: “Will you do me the favor of coming here
every day for two weeks? I do not promise to
make you happy in this world, but in the next.
I desire people to come here to pray for sinners.
You will go and tell the priest to build a chapel
here; I desire that processions come to this place;
that people drink of the water of this fountain.”
On the 25th of March the Blessed Virgin said:
“I am the Immaculate.”
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25
At eleven o’clock a. m. of the 15th of May we
started by rail for Toulouse, where we arrived at
six o’clock in the evening. The road winding
through the valleys of the huge chain of mount-
ains, this trip become exceedingly interesting.
At the distance we distinctly saw the grand peaks
of the Pyrenees in Spain, appearing like majestic
icicles, defying the rays of the sun, as well as the
dark and angry looking clouds which encircled
and rolled over them. The country does not
seem to be fertile, yet the cultivation of the
grape continues.
Passing through the city of St. Julien, whose
wines are relished in Europe as well as in Amer-
ica, we may conclude that the harvest will bring
a reign of prosperity, if nothing unforseen hap-
pens. In Toulouse we have had time to visit
three churches, which, owing to the May devo-
tion, or Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament,
were well attended. At 6 o’clock a. m., on the
1 6th of May we started for Marseilles; but we
were not fortunate enough to arrive at an early
hour, it being 10 p. M. The darkness did not
permit us the pleasure of seeing this renowned
city, and the pressure of time, aiming to be in
Rome on the 18th, did not permit a delay. We
enjoyed but an hour’s delay in Genoa, and began
our “night journey” for Rome, and being eight
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“AS THE BISHOP SA IV ITT
persons in that miserable coach, crowded to
excess, every attempt at rest proved a sad
delusion. Arriving in the Eternal City at 2
p. M. on the 1 8th of *May, we were considerably
“used up,” covered with dust, and hungry as
wolves, having only “two minutes” for breakfast.
C. H. B.
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IV.
St. Peter’s, Rome, May 20 , i 8 jj.
Of course, we first attended to our official bus-
iness, which prompted our visit to this city.
Very Rev. Pizzoti, General of the Congregation
of the Precious Blood, had kindly secured well-
furnished rooms for us, at but a short distance
from his convent and about the same from the
American college, No. 32 via Marroniti. Call-
ing at the Propaganda yesterday at 4 p. m., we
learned, to our regret, that His Eminence, Car-
dinal Franchi, was absent, but our card sent to
the Secretary of the Propaganda soon introduced
us to this estimable functionary. He received
the Diocesan report, treated us most cordially,
and kindly offered to present our requests to the
Holy Father at the audience of this Sunday
evening (May 20).
Our next visit was to St. Peters. Much,
indeed, has been written about this greatest of
the temples of Christendom, and our anticipations
were not within ordinary limits, but the reality
which now loomed up before us exceeded the
most sanguine expectations, as we stood in the
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court-yard of the rotunda, and for the first time
rested our eyes, in admiration, on this grand
structure. The impression made on the mind at
this moment no pen can describe, no words can
picture — one and all exclaimed “It is grand! it
is magnificent! it is majestic! ” yet they have not
expressed what the eyes see, and what is now
being pictured on the mind of the beholders.
The double array of massive columns, of charm-
ing proportions and superb workmanship, upon
which the portico of the building rests, with the
row of statuary surmounting the whole, challenge
your attention. One feels as if he were planted
on the marble pavements, and had no more to
enjoy. The procession of strangers, who have
assembled in this city for the festivities of the
fiftieth anniversary of the Episcopacy of our
Holy Father, Pius IX, and who are confidently
estimated at over 40,000 in number, advancing
toward the doorway of the great vestibule of
the church, we are drawn along with the
crowd, yet follow involuntarily. We stop in
breathless admiration at the bas relief synopsis of
history which ornaments the entry into the vesti-
bule. Having passed the huge curtain of leather
hangings in the doorway, and offered the tribute
eagerly looked for by the beggars, who struggle
with one another for the privilege of lifting this
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curtain, the immense vacant space in which you
stand surprises you. Looking to the right and
left, it would seem four good-sized American
churches could stand in this vestibule, without, in
the least, crowding the space. You stand at
once before and in the midst of the greatest
stationary panorama of art and beauty, the
four walls and ceilings presenting the fresco
paintings and the statuary of the old masters,
whose genius and skill have been the admiration
of centuries, and to-day fill the soul with the
noblest emotions. You look, and look again, at
the one and the other, and look again at the
whole, with ever-increasing pleasure. But the
never-ending procession, passing in and out,
invites you to follow into the temple itself. Here
at the threshold you halt, and, having viewed the
exterior as a whole, you now try to gain a pic-
ture of the interior as a whole ; but the grandeur,
the sublime, the majestic, so swiftly hurry into
view, that the detailed examination of each church
within this great temple, forces itself upon you.
It is too much of a treat for one day; a week
would hardly be sufficient time to enjoy and
appreciate it all. The building in the interior is
607 feet long; the transept forming the cross, 445
feet; the width of the nave, 89 feet; the height of
the nave, 150 feet; the width of each of the side
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aisles, 21 feet, and the height 47 feet; each of the
four great pillars supporting the dome, over the
center of which rises the cross, is 232 feet in cir-
cumference; the height of the dome, 458 feet.
St. Peter’s covers five acres of ground. Looking
at the high altar in the center aisle at a distance,
one feels greatly disappointed. It appears so
small under the bronze canopy, yet it is really
1 20 feet high. Had I been asked to guess, my
answer would have been that the extreme height
might be from 30 to 35 feet.
It is amusing to see the surprise of everyone
who has seen the little plump white angels hold-
ing the holy water font, standing at the base of
the second grand arch, finding them upon
approaching, to be of such gigantic size that a
small sized person cannot easily put their hand
in the basin. Having passed the third and
fourth grand arches you stand before a crown of
lights encircling the “Confessio Sti Petri.” One
hundred and fifty lamps are constantly kept burn-
ing here, but this number is greatly increased on
account of the festivities. The visitor kneeling
down to offer his prayers, is now “Ad Limina
Apostolorum.” From the middle of this circular
balustrade, he descends by a marble stair to the
Note. — T he measurements given are, as they appear in the
MS.
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interior of this sanctuary. At the right of the
entrance is the statue of St. Peter, seated in a
chair, the foot of which is reverently kissed by
all who pass by. In the column to the left the
precious relics are preserved — the handkerchief
Veronica, upon which our Lord imprinted his
face; a large piece of the real wood of the holy
cross, and the spear of Longinius, which pierced
the side of our Lord on the cross. The magnifi-
cent bronze gate, richly gilt and ornamented, and
the four superb columns of alabaster, between
which the statues of Sts. Peter and Paul stand,
form the enclosure of a species of niche, this
being the very oratory built by St. Anaclitus, in
which the bodies of Sts. Peter and Paul are
entombed — it being the subterranean altar, with
the images of the Savior in mosaic as an altar-
piece. Returning from this sanctuary, called the
“ Confession of St. Peter,” the feeling takes pos-
session of us that the very bones of Sts. Peter
and Paul are preaching Jesus Christ crucified —
the very tomb which enshrines them bearing tes-
timony of the one true church of Christ — the
very oratory of St. Anaclitus — who conversed
with the Prince of the Apostles, who loved him
as the representative of Jesus Christ, who vener-
ated his relics, and had them deposited in
this shrine, which became, as it were, the primi-
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tive corner-stone of the great cathedral of Christ-
endom — St. Peter’s in Rome — this very oratory
bears witness “That the gates of hell shall not
prevail against the Church.”
We are in sight of the tribune and chair of St.
Peter’s. It is in the semi-circle of the upper part
of the nave, adorned by the design of the great
artist, Michael Angelo. Above the altar are four
gigantic statues in bronze, representing St. Am-
brose, St. Augustine, St. Athanasius and St. John
Chrysostom, which support the chair in which is
enclosed the real chair used by St. Peter. The
chair is crowned by a glory composed of angels
and seraphims, the Holy Ghost in the form of a
dove, being, as it were, in a transparent field in
the center. In the niches around the Tribune are
the statues of St. Dominic, St. Francis, St. Elias
and St. Benedict, and above them are the niches
containing the statues of St. Alphonsus, St. Fran-
cis Carraccint, St. Francis de Sales and St. Fran-
cis of Rome. At the distance, this chair of St.
Peter’s seems very insignificant, but it being 70
feet high, the majestic proportions are only real-
ized when a person stands near by and examines
it. Nearly the attention of every visitor is
directed to the masterpiece of fresco painting in
the upper story of the cupola or dome, which is
139 feet in diameter and 330 feet high in the inte-
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rior, and in particular to the pen in the hand of
the prophet, which appears about a foot in size,
whereas, really, it measures six feet in length.
Having taken a hurried look at the main aisle
and the cupola, we now turn aside to see the
chapels in St. Peter’s. There are 19 of them,
each adorned with superb paintings and statuary,
not of ordinary merit, but of the highest order
of art, and many of them are of the choicest
marble and the rarest shades. The last of the
paintings or statues admired, always seemed to
be the most superb in form, the most life-like in
expression, the most delicate in coloring, and the
most artistic in every respect. I beg to conclude
this visit by assuring you, that St. Peter’s in
Rome is not only the largest and most beautiful
church that has ever been erected, but is, without
exception, the noblest work of architecture ever
produced by man.
Byron apostrophises it:
“ But thou, of temples old or altars new,
Standest alone, with nothing like to thee.”
C. H. B.
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V.
Rome, May 21, 1877.
THE ANNIVERSARY.
This is the day of the grand celebration in St.
Peter’s in honor of His Holiness, our glorious
Pope Pius IX. Pilgrims from every portion of
the globe will participate in it. They are esti-
mated from 30,000 to 40,000 in number, and I
verily believe that there are rather more than
less; for wherever you go, in the streets, in the
hotels, in the stores, in.- the churches, or in the
public promenades, the crowd of strangers is
immense. If it is not the promptings of devo-
tion, curiosity has induced the strangers to
hasten to the Solemnity. No doubt, owing to
the concourse in the church, the absence of seat-
ing accommodations and the general confusion
prevailing, there seemed to be not the slightest
attempt at order.
The assembly had not even the appearance of
devotion, nor that they flocked there for any
other motive than curiosity. Silence was only
obtained for a little while, when the several parts
of the grand orchestral mass challenged more
than ordinary attention.
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Walking from one side of the church to the
other, commenting on the monuments, statuary
and paintings; yes, laughing and giggling and
general merriment was indulged in, instead of
hearing mass in the ordinary spirit of piety. It
appeared as if but a very insignificant sprinkle of
Roman citizens was in the vast crowd, the Italian
language being but seldom heard. The vastness
of St. Peter’s church was seen to great advan-
tage; the number of people assembled being, at
the very lowest estimate, 30,000, and yet the edi-
fice appeared far from being half filled. The
ceremonial of a Pontifical High Mass, celebrated
by one of the Cardinals was carried out to per-
fection. The many dignitaries seated in the
Sanctuary, and the singing, executed in a style
for which the choir of St. Peter’s is renowned,
and without equal in the world — the whole
would have inspired devotion and awe, if the ser-
vice could have taken place at home. The
Lauds having been chanted by the clergy in the
sanctuary or choir, and Cardinal Boromeo being
vested for mass, the procession, led by six guards
of honor, dressed in the quaint Roman style,
moved on to the altar and mass commenced.
In the sanctuary there were many priests and
Bishops, who, from the peculiarities of the caps,
cassocks, surplices, rochettes and mantillas,
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showed that they had come from many different
countries, there being but a few in the strictly
Roman clerical costume. The singers and musi-
cians forming the choir of that day, were about
equally divided in the two organ lofts, to the
right and left sides of the main altar. In each of
them there were large organs. Both choirs
were directed by one leader in an elevated posi-
tion in the choir on the gospel side, who was
attired in a purple cassock and rochette — such
as Bishops wear in the United States. The
music was of the “Palastrini” order, with a full
orchestra accompaniment. It was executed with
inimitable perfection. Each singer seemed to
know his part by heart, no one scarcely ever
glancing at the scroll before time. There were
no female singers. Among the voices the two
sopranos were the most marvellous, rendering
their parts with as much facility and grace as the
prima donna of rare culture of voice, yet they
were two full bearded men, with whom two boys
of about the age of 14 and 16 years seemed alter-
nately to rival. In the sanctuary the prescribed
rubrics are strictly observed, and immediately
round about the sanctuary a good many persons
are kneeling, evidently trying to hear mass
devoutly. Many others, standing in their prox-
imity, appear to follow the divine services. But
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the great crowd of the assembled continue to
enjoy .themselves, and give not the least indica-
tion of devotion. The services ended at a few
minutes after noon.
The remainder of the day was spent inspecting
the stores on the Corso — the street which exhib-
its fancies, curiosities and luxuries of every imag-
inable description, which are admired by the
throng of strangers in the city. The cost of
which, counted by our dollars, are so low, and the
workmanship so superb, that the best resolution
not to load your valise down with the unnecessary,
is insufficient to resist the allurements. Besides,
our French gold 20-franc piece is worth $22.60
in Italian money, for, like in the days of our civil
war, paper currency is the only money in this
country, and gold and silver are only in the
hands of the strangers whom, on that account,
are cordially welcome. To-day I learned that
taxes in Rome are 40 per cent., which, in a
country like this, is evidently the forerunner of
bankruptcy. The extra Holy Day being over,
we will again call at the Propaganda to-morrow
morning, in hopes of bringing our official business
to a speedy end. Then we will be free to devote
the rest of our stay to the visiting of the several
monuments of antiquity and of art. Adieu!
• c. H. B.
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VI.
st. peter’s of the chains.
Rome, May 22, 1877.
Having given you an account of St. Peter’s,
and the semi-centennial celebration of the Epis-
copate of the Holy Father, at which he himself
was not able to attend, for prudential reasons, I
take pleasure in relating our visit to the Basilica
of St. Peter’s “Ad Vincula.” The occasion of the
consecration of a new altar was the extraordi-
nary solemnity, and the exposition of the two
chains which held St. Peter prisoner in Jerusalem
and Rome, which, when coming within reach of
one another, miraculously joined as if they had
been one (A. D. 435), induced us to go there on
this day. The exterior of this church is
unsightly, showing great need of necessary
repairs. It was built in the year of our Lord
442, has three aisles, twenty Doric columns of
Greek marble, and two of granite, which support
the grand middle arch, and it possesses great
treasures in the bodies and relics of the martyrs
of the primitive church. Among the several
38 W
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39
pieces of art which adorn this Basilica, is the pic-
ture of St. Sebastian, a beautiful mosaic of the
seventh century. Also a “ Pieta ” attributed to
the artist Pomarancio. The grand statue of
Moses, — the master-piece of Michael Angelo,
acknowledged to be one of the most celebrated
statues in the world, — challenges attention and
admiration. It, alone, richly rewards a visit to
this church. It gives a better idea of the
grandeur and majesty of the great man of God
than many years of study.
st. clement’s.
We visited the church of St. Clement, Pope
and martyr, on the way from St. Peter’s of the
chains. It is considered one of the oldest in
Rome. The present edifice was erected in 1108,
the ancient one having been leveled to the
ground in the time of Robert Guiscard. It
is particularly interesting, showing, in the interior
arrangement, the observance of the rites of the
ancient church.
It is divided into three aisles, with columns of
different marble, taken from other ancient build-
ings. In the middle aisle is an inclosure, which,
in primitive times, served as a chair, with a
pulpit from which the epistles, gospels, etc., were
read. Next to the inclosure is the sanctuary,
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“AS THE BISHOP SA IV IT.”
entirely separated from the other portion of the
church, in which is the altar of the confession,
or the main altar, which contains the urn,
filled with the ashes of St. Clement, and St.
Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch. By the excavation
made it was discovered that the present church
was built on the same spot, where the primitive
church of the saint stood, and the stairs near the
sacristy lead us down into the subterranean
chapel. These were frequent in the early ages
of the church, necessitated by the cruel and
relentless persecutions of the Christians. Here
we find a series of well-preserved fresco paintings
of the 8th, ioth and nth centuries.
ST. JOHN LATERAN.
St. John Lateran is one of the most interesting
Basilica’s in Rome, it being the ancient cathedral
of the city, of which the sovereign, Pontiff, takes
formal possession after his election. It was
founded by Constantine the Great, and received
its name from the place in Laterano in which it
was built. In 1308 the old church of ten centu-
ries was destroyed by fire, and the present edifice
was begun by Pope Clement V. It was com-
pleted and embellished by his successor.
The front view is as odd as it is imposing;
four large columns and six pilasters support a
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massive cornice, surmounted by a balustrade,
graced with several statues, in the center of
them a colossal figure of the Savior. Between
the columns and pilasters there are five Balconies,
from the center of which the Pope gives his ben-
ediction. It has five front doors, but the one to
the right is walled up and called a “Porta
Sancta,” because it is only opened in “Anno
Sant to” — the twenty-fifth year of the Jubilee.
In the interior it has five aisles.
SCALA SANCTA.
The Scala Sancta consists of twenty-eight
marble steps, which belonged to the Palace of
Pilate. It is held in great veneration because
Jesus Christ ascended and descended them sev-
eral times, bathing them with his precious blood.
The Baptismal font of Constantine is formed
of an antique urn placed in the center of the cir-
cular space, surrounded by a balustrade and cov-
ered with a dome, supported by two rows of
columns. The frescoes and statues represent the
life of St. John the Baptist. In the cathedral of
St. John Lateran the heads (skulls) of Sts. Peter
and Paul are preserved.
On the road from this church to St. Paul’s,
“outside the walls,” — the first way-side chapel of
devotional interest, — is where St. Peter, the
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"AS THE BISHOP SA W IT."
apostle, meeting Jesus, asked the Lord: “Lord,
where art Thou going,” and the Savior deigned
to answer, “I come to Rome to be again cruci-
fied.” In the chapel is the life-sized statue of the
Redeemer, holding the cross in his right hand,
and at the foot of the base of this there is “the
stone on which the Savior left the print of his
foot,” — at this apparition. At but a short dis-
tance from St. Paul’s, on this same road, is
another chapel built on the spot where St. Peter
and Paul took leave of each other, “with the kiss
of peace,” immediately before the martyrdom of
both, the scene being represented by bas-relief
figures of the two apostles. This memorable
little chapel is in a sad state of decay, but what
can be expected of a government, in such inferior
affairs of Catholic piety, which auctions off the
more important church property to feed the
impiety of its officials, and which has turned
many chapels and sanctuaries into stables for
horses. Poor Catholic Italy! The insults
offered to the Almighty will be avenged by the
King of kings, who chooses his own time in
scourging the stiff-necked.
st. Paul’s, outside the walls,
Is generally considered the most beautiful church
in all Rome, and the Rev. Brother of V. Rev. H.
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J. Schutjes, who had visited it before, was fully
convinced of the fact. In some respects I felt
inclined to agree with him. It stands in an open
space. It can be viewed with all its advantages.
The whole of the exterior is imposing, and the
chasteness, united with the grandeur, make the
most favorable impression. Still St. Peter’s, in
my opinion, defies it all. The origin of this
church dates from the days of Constantine. In
1823 the ancient structure was destroyed by fire,
and the present Basilica is therefore of recent
date.
The side entrance has a grand facade, sup-
ported by twelve columns of Greek marble, but
the principal or Northern entrance, facing the
city has a majestic portico with seven doors,
entering into the church. It is decorated with
one of the grandest Mosaics — said to cover the
surface of 365 metres — representing the Savior
seated on a superb throne, at the base of which
Sts. Peter and Paul are seated; the divine lamb
and some sheep — the figures of the prophets
Isais, Jeremias, Ezekiel and Daniel on gold relief.
The portraits of the seventy-four Popes are in
Mosaics — from St. Peter to John IV. In the
middle aisle and centre transcept is the ancient
Papal altar, rescued from the conflagration of the
church, ornamented with a Gothic canopy and
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supported by four columns of porphyry. Under
this altar is the half of the remains of Sts. Peter
and Paul, the other half being in St. Peter’s.
The magnificent Baldichino canopy, which rises
above it, is carried by four columns of oriental
alabaster. The whole of this altar and its orna-
ments closely resemble the one of the sepulchre
in St. Peter’s, and is likewise encircled by ever-
burning votive lamps. In the side aisles are con-
tinuation of the portraits of the Popes to the
present time. The side chapels are extremely
grand, and many of the paintings, though of
recent date, seemed to me unsurpassed by the
old masters. We must bid adieu to this charm
ing visit, in order to go to the “Church of St.
Paul of the three fountains.” The distance is
not great — the country quite hilly — the ravines
frequent. There are several good quarries in
this vicinity, which yield pretty good building
stone. This is the country drenched with the
blood of the thousands of martyrs, who fled into
these ravines from the fury of the tyrants and
were hunted down like wild beasts. Though
many of the remains were stealthily carried away
and buried in the catacombs, yet, at the right of
the entrance of the grounds of the church of the
three fountains, there is a monumental chapel
erected in honor of the remains of 10,203 martyrs
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interred there. The church to the left, or oppo-
site to this chapel of the martyrs, is being re-
paired. Having for years been abandoned, it
became almost a ruin, and thus far it is of little
interest to the visitor, except the fact that it is
one of the three churches built by the early
Christians. At the entrance of the church-yard
are the three fountains. In the corner to the right
of the shrine, supported by columns of verd-an-
tique, is the marble column or block — almost a
wedge-shape on the top, upon which the head of
St. Paul was laid for the beheading. In falling, it
bounded thrice, at almost equal distances, and in
the three places where the Saint’s head struck
the ground, three fountains sprang forth, and
have miraculously continued ever since to pour
out their capacious streams. By special request
of Holy Father, Pius IX, the Trappists have
returned to this sacred spot, no doubt, to die in
holy obedience to the wishes of the Sovereign
Pontiff, because their own community had aban-
doned it on account of the malaria arising from
the swamp in the immediate vicinity. America
has, however, come to their relief; one of the
Trappists from Kentucky, U. S., being sent to this
convent, and having heard of the medicinal prop-
erties of the Eucalyptus tree, cultivated in South
America and California, concluded “In Nomine
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“AS THE BISHOP SA W IT."
Domine” to try it as an antidote against the
malignant fever. The Eucalyptus grows sponta-
neously and luxuriantly on the convent farm, and
preparing tea from the bark and leaves, the
result following the use of this tea proved almost
miraculous in curing the sickness of the monks.
The manufacture of Eucalyptus Extract, which
is quite extensively sold there, and elsewhere, is
one of the resources of the monks in meeting the
expenses of restoring the old, dilapidated church.
If I did not feel confident that you are anxious
to learn all about Rome and its grandeur, and
feel as deep an interest in all these evidences of
our holy religion as we do, I should consider it a
duty to apologize for this long letter. Adieu!
c. H. B.
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VII.
Rome, May 25, iSjy.
AUDIENCE.
The anxiously looked for audience with the
Holy Father for all the Americans in the eternal
city, Catholics and Protestants alike, was granted
yesterday. The hour appointed was noon, and
the tickets issued demanded the holder to be
there at 1 1 130 o’clock. Our company, in which
Mr. M. was the only layman, was among the
punctual, there being about fifty persons in the
audience hall upon our arrival. This hall can
easily hold one thousand persons, the five hun-
dred did not fill it half. The visitors are
expected to stand, there being no seats, and only
benches along the two side walls, no doubt,
intended for the infirm and aged. In order not
to crowd the Holy Father from view, benches
form a hollow square in the entire length of the
center of the hall. It is neatly frescoed and
looks plain and handsome. A good English
lady, who had been ushered into the apartment
set aside for the Bishops and Cardinals, quite
near to the throne on which His Holiness was to
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be seated, kindly entered into conversation with
me without a formal introduction. She volun-
teered the information that the Holy Father
would not appear until about one o’clock, as she
has enjoyed the privilege of seeing him every
day this week at the several audiences given.
This maneuver would not have astonished me
were she a Yankee lady, or a female reporter for
one of our papers, but a lady of English gravity,
to worm her way so dexterously, is worth record-
ing. As soon as propriety permitted I bowed
myself away, and moved over to the corner on
the opposite side which our company had wisely
selected, it being the only sure spot, from which
they could get a full view of the Holy Father.
I informed them of the hour’s patience to be
exercised. Apropos! Let me tell you, I never
saw our friend look more dignified and venerable
than yesterday. He was dressed according to
the prescribed etiquette — a swallow-tailed coat,
white vest, white neck-tie, and the barber had
done his best to make him look lordly, and his
bright and beaming countenance was in keeping
with the whole. The ladies wore a black dress
and black lace veil, but all of them were loaded
down with rosaries, medals, crucifixes, etc., etc.,
to be blessed as souvenirs of this auspicious occa-
sion. The priests and Bishops were attired in
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49
the usual full clerical dress. As the time
approached, I left our company and repaired to
the first ante-chamber, where the Cardinals and
Bishops were assembled, awaiting the arrival of
His Holiness. From the United States were
present Archbishop Wood, Bishops McCloskey,
McNierney, Dominic, Galberry, Leroy, Dubois,.
Krautbauer, Seidenbusch and self, and the abbot
of St. Cloud, Edelbrock, O. S. B., besides,
several French and English Bishops. In the
second ante-chamber were a great many French
and English priests, and the laity of noble rank,
and priests from the continent, who understood
the secret of getting behind the curtain.
Lo! the signal is given, and the noble guard,
in their beautiful uniform, wearing the ancient
Roman helmet, present arms as the Holy Father
is carried to the entrance of the door of our ante-
chamber. The Cardinals and Bishops kneel for
the first blessing, and in the center of the room
the chair is lowered, and the Holy Father allows
a pleasant little chat to his sons in Christ, who
now eagerly surround him. He has a kind word
and benign, parental smile for each of them.
You have seen the likeness of Pope Pius IX —
every Catholic is familiar with it — but among
his own children in private, he does not look a
bit like the picture of him. He is so fatherly, so
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kind, so mild, so simple and humble, one feels at
once quite at home. The limbs of the Holy
Father entirely refuse to serve him, and he is
obliged to be carried in his chair by four fine
looking men, dressed in scarlet uniform, from his
private room into the audience hall. The noble
guard advance before the Pope and the Cardinals
and Bishops, two by two, follow in the slow pro-
cession to the hall.
It is an American audience — they who are, in
all Europe, supposed to be the very essence of
rudeness. Behold! the assembly in the second
ante-chamber, among whom there was not a
single American, broke into a shameful scramble
and threw the procession into disorder; the mas-
ter of ceremonies shouted for order; the Cardi-
nals and Bishops looked horrified; the Pope is the
only one who sadly smiles. Of course, all this
will be put to the account of “American rude-
ness,” whereas it was the so-called “European
politeness” which, alone, was guilty of this dis-
graceful scene. Order having been restored and
each one assigned his place, Archbishop Wood
stepped before the throne and read the address in
behalf of the American Bishops. It being pretty
long, the time gave me the desired oppor-
tunity of not only seeing, but observing the
Holy Father with great satisfaction. But he
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appears now, as you see him in the good like-
ness; he sits quite erect, his countenance con-
tinues mild, yet very firm, his eyes are
bright and fixed; he scans the audience before
him with searching interest, yet no sentiment
nor sentence of the address escapes his atten-
tion. Yes, he looks the Pope, the real rep-
resentative upon earth of Jesus Christ. Now the
Master of Ceremonies invites each American
Bishop to approach His Holiness; next in order
were the priests and laymen, who had offerings
to give, each one being privileged to kiss the
ring on his hand. This ceremony over, the Pope
began his address, which the telegraph wires will
have reported and you read long before this let-
ter can reach you. Pius IX truly speaks with a
marvellous facility, real grace of manners, great
vivacity, and an occasional display of good
humor. His voice is clear and strong, betraying
none of the tremor usual in persons of such great
age. Rising, in conclusion, for the blessing, he
announced that he wished to bless each and
every one present, and each and every one repre-
sented by them ; the Catholics in America for an
increase of Sanctity, and the Protestants that
they may be enlightened in Divine truth, and
that he grants the usual indulgences for the
articles he is about to bless, and in particular, the
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plenary indulgence at the hour of death for the
crucifixes. All present, Catholics and Protestants,
without exception kneeling down, the Holy
Father intones the blessing in a clear sonorous
voice and gives the papal benediction. The
assembly is estimated five or six hundred in
number. The Pope being carried away, the
audience is over. The most momentous event
in my life, which will never be forgotten.
QUIRRINAL.
Owing to the important state of things, and the
robber — occupant — called King of Italy, I could
not enjoy a visit at the Quirrinal Palace, and had
to content myself with admiring the exterior
magnificence. Nearly opposite, on the right side
and across the street, is St. Andrew’s church.
Being oval in form, it looks but small, but is a
model of beauty, and abounds in superb paint
ings; the altar, under which the body of St. Stan-
islaus Kostka rests, in particular is gorgeously
rich and elegant. Adjoining the church is the
house, and the room in which St. Stanislaus lived.
It has been converted into a little chapel, hand-
somely frescoed, and the statue of the dying
saint is admirable.
st. mary’s of the angels.
At the church of the angels, a Dominican friar
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introduced himself, speaking German, and took
great pleasure in showing us around and explain-
ing everything in their church. Like the great
majority of the churches in Rome, its exterior is
very unsightly, so much so, that here as in many
other instances, we questioned if the trouble of
getting out of the carriage and going in would be
repaid. But the interior of this church surprises
not a little in its grandeur. Of the ordinary
sanctuaries of religion in this city, it is one of the
most magnificent. It is in the form of a Greek
cross; the columns are of red granite, brought
from Egypt, 45 feet above the ground. The
rotunda in the front of the church serving as a
vestibule, is the very place of the ancient hot
baths.
Crossing the next street, there is a dilapidated-
looking church; yet within, a costly and grand
house of God, incrusted with Sicilian jasper and
ornamented with many elegant paintings and
beautiful statues, the most interesting among
them, to my taste, are St. Francis, St. Joseph
sleeping whilst the angel appeared to him in a
dream, and St. Teresa in ecstacy. The banners
above the high altar, taken from the Turks 1571,
are not the least among the curiosities.
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S. MARIA MAGGIORE.
Being in sight of and near the Basilica di S.
Maria Maggiore, one of the grandest churches in
Rome, we waived every other consideration and
directed our driver to bring us there. It stands
free, like St. Paul’s, and the first impression is
favorable. It is 177 feet above the level of the
sea. It dates its origin from the year 352, was
enlarged in 432 and improved and decorated in
the succeeding centuries, until the present Pope
Pius IX finished it.
“The Confession or the Subterranean Crypt”
in front of the high altar contains “the cradle of
the infant Savior,” the body of St. Matthias and
relics of other saints. The church has three
doors, one of which is walled up, and only opened
in “Anno Sancto,” like the one in St. John Lat-
eran. The three aisles in the interior are formed
of thirty-six Ionic columns of white marble. The
high altar is formed of a grand urn of porphyry
covered with a marble slab. The altar slab is
supported by four angels, one at each comer.
The magnificent canopy over the altar is sup
ported by four columns of porphyry. Though
every one of the many chapels in this church is
rich and beautiful, abounding in paintings and
statues by masters, the altar of the Blessed Vir-
gin struck me as particularly grand. The four
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columns of the altar are covered with oriental jas?
per and the pedestals with agate. The capitals
are gilt bronze. The image of the Blessed Vir-
gin is the one painted by St. Luke. It is sur-
rounded with precious stones of great value, sup-
ported by statues of angels of gilt bronze. A
day spent in the church gives but a general idea
of its vastness and magnificence. We are greatly
fatigued — the strain on the eyes, the feet walking
from altar to altar, and the tax on the mind and
memory being persevered in from an early hour
in the morning until hunger and fatigue reminds
us of sunset, is not an easy task. Adieu!
C. H. B.
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VIII.
Rome, May 26, 1877.
Our visit to the church of the Holy Cross, will
be as interesting to you as it was to us. It was
erected by St. Helena in the gardens of Var-
lianus, which belonged to Heliogabolus, Emperor
of Rome, in the 3d century. Having undertaken,
with the authority of her son, Constantine the
Great, to clear the place of the Holy Sepulchre
of the idols, Venus and Jupiter and their temples
erected by the Emperor Hadrian, succeeded in
finding the holy cross, the nails and the inscrip-
tion over the cross, in the year 326. She gave a
part to Jerusalem, another part to the Emperor,
and a third part she brought with her to Rome.
It is a sad-looking church, greatly neglected, and
needs repairs to prevent it becoming a wreck.
The interior seems to share in the neglect ;
it does not charm by its neatness and the evi-
dence of solicitude and care. It is divided
into three aisles, and has eight massive columns
of Egyptian granite. The canopy of the high
altar rests on four columns composed of corals
(called Breccia Corallina), which looks truly
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grand. But we had seen enough of the edifice,
and felt sadly disappointed in not finding what
we particularly desired. A priest at this
moment opened the sacristy door and looked into
the church. He was the man we just now
wanted to see, but he retired and closed the
door. However, we were not to be baffled so
easily, and followed him into the sacristy, and
made inquiry about the relics. He politely
answered our questions, and informed us that the
chapel was locked and he could not open it. It
became necessary to inform him that a Bishop
from America was addressing him; he bowed
reverently, quickly found a bunch of keys, and
asked us to follow him. Having descended
three stairs, and opened as many doors, we
entered the subterranean chapel. It is small, and
has but one altar on which are the relics of the
Holy Cross, consisting of one large piece, both
ends of which have considerably diminished, — by
the many particles taken off, — and two smaller
pieces. The priest put on a stole, and taking the
large relic of the Holy Cross, he handed it to
me, and, having kissed it, I offered it to my com-
panion to kiss it, which he did with tears in his
eyes. We held in our hands, also, one of the
nails which fastened Our Lord to the wood of the
cross, and which is, probably, four or five
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inches long, somewhat bent in the middle and
near the point, with a round head like a cap.
We were privileged, also, to venerate two thorns
from the crown of thorns pressed on the divine
head, one of which is considerably longer and
sharper than the other, and both of them are
longer than the thorns on the locust tree in our
country; a part of the column or pillar on
which our Lord was scourged, and two pieces of
stone of the Sepulchre into which the body of
our Lord was laid after the crucifixion; also a
large bone of the fore-finger of St. Thomas
which touched the wounds of our Lord after his
resurrection. Having seen, venerated and
lovingly kissed these sacred evidences of our
Holy Religion; holding them in my own hands,
I could not help thinking of the words of the
apostle: “I believe, O Lord, help Thou my
unbelief.”
You see we have found the cradle of the cross,
— followed our Divine Saviour, as it were, from
Bethlehem to Calvary. We have seen the relics
of His apostles, stood on the tomb of the 10,203
martyrs, — all bearing testimony of the divinity
of Jesus Christ and of the church which he
established, of which the apostles were the
ground and pillars, and for which the martyrs
died in the glorious confession of the one true
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faith. For the privilege which we have enjoyed
we will -ever feel thankful to Almighty God.
Though we ought to feel and say “Enough, O,
Lord, enough!” yet I beg you to accompany me
unto the Catacombs to complete this triumphant
celebration.
CATACOMBS OF CALITUS.
We are all supplied - with wax tapers about six
inches long, which are lit at the head of the stairs
of stone steps, which lead down into the depths,
and the descent begins. I did not count the
number of steps, but think about the depth of
fifty feet. The Catacombs of Calitus are the
largest, and this we are now about to inspect.
It is as dark as night, and the slender light from
the wax tapers only suffices to discern the path,
and reveal the object towards which you direct it
very closely. You stand in a narrow passage
about four feet wide and ten or twelve feet high.
The earthen walls to the right and left of this
passage are honey-combed with openings suffi-
ciently large to receive a human body, pushed in
lengthwise. The great majority of these are
now open, the remains of the saints having been
removed, twenty-eight wagon loads of them
being at one time taken from here to St. Mary’s
of the Martyrs — the ancient Pantheon. The
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length of these passages vary from twenty to
sixty feet, I fancy. You turn, now to the
right, then to the left, moving forward and back-
ward, and to and fro, until you feel yourself
entirely at the mercy of the guide, ever to see
day-light. The guide stops to point out to you
an ancient altar in one of the passages;
it is the grave of some eminent Pope, Bishop and
martyr, which forms the altar table at an eleva-
tion of about three feet from the ground on
which you stand. Generally the earth has been
dug away in the rear to form a semi-circle of
about four feet high above the table of the altar,
upon the walls of which the symbolic simple
paintings are well preserved, such as “The whale
of Jonas,” “The three youths in the furnace,”
“Daniel in the den of lions,” “Isaac tied on the
altar ready to be immolated,” “The Good Shep-
herd with the lost sheep on his shoulders,”
“Moses striking the rock,” “The dove with the
olive branch,” “The symbol of fishes,” “The sym-
bol of the pelican,” etc., etc. On the side of
several of these altars is the seat of stone, serving
in those days as the Bishop’s throne. The most
interesting of these simple paintings on the altar
wall of this earth (or, more properly, “volcanic
cement”) is that of the “Blessed Virgin with the
infant Savior on her lap,” her hands folded and
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raised, as well as her eyes, heavenward — the
attitude of adoration. It is at once an expres-
sion of faith in the Divinity of Christ, and of the
veneration in which these first heroes of Chris-
tianity held the Mother of God. Going along
the other passages, some shorter and some
longer, from time to time there appear larger
openings in the side wall. The examination
reveals that two Saints had been buried there,
and in some instances three or four had been
entombed at the same time side by side. The
openings were walled up by earthen slabs, like
smooth tiles or stone, which frequently bore the
inscription of the name of the martyrs, and when
the name was not inscribed, the martyrdom was
indicated by the vial of the martyr’s blood placed
at the side of the remains. As one goes along
he feels that he is walking on sacred soil — conse-
crated by the ardent prayers of the prim-
itive children of the church — consecrated by
the many sacrifices of the mass offered here by
the many saints — consecrated by the blood
of the 174,000 (and God only knows how many
more martyrs) whose holy remains rested here
whilst their souls celebrated the eternal jubilee
before the throne of God. The wax taper is
consumed, and the second is lit, and we are
chilled through and through, but the prayers of
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the saints whom we came to honor here, will, I
am sure, save us from the threatened evil conse-
quences, for everyone told us, that no stranger to
the Roman climate can stay in the Catacombs in
this heat of Summer more than ten minutes with-
out danger of death. Surveying with our eyes
the ground after we had come out of the sub-
terranean cemetery, we concluded it to embrace
about twenty acres. The catacombs of St.
Sebastian, which are near by — almost adjoining
this, — are entered from the interior of the
church of St. Sebastian, the door being near to
the Sanctuary on the epistle side. Had it not
been for a party of visitors just coming out from
them, whilst we were examining the church, we
would probably have failed in finding this blessed
spot. We again took courage, — accepted
another wax taper, and bravely followed the
guide leading the way down the very marble
steps which the first Christians built. The
interior arrangement of these are nearly the
same as the one we had left, excepting that the
passages seemed shorter, and the turns more
sudden and complicated. Here we found the
tomb of St. Sebastian, forming an altar; also
many very distinct paintings, such as I have
already mentioned. The chapel of St. Cecilia is
the most interesting. It is remarkable for its
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peculiar shape, and larger in size than any other.
It is a very nice little chapel, replete with
symbolic paintings, particularly of the angelic
company enjoyed by the saint. There is an
inscription over the entrance, stating that forty-
six Popes had been buried in these catacombs.
Comparatively, these catacombs are smaller than
the others we have seen, and we came to light
less chilled than before. To economize time,
especially on account of the intolerable heat,
which, in degree, is not greater than in America,
but the atmosphere seems to have no elasticity,
and it becomes cruelly oppressive, we con-
tented ourselves with two meals a day, — break-
fast at 7 or 8, and dinner at 5 or 6 p. m., — and
after dinner we frequently enjoyed a walk in the
public promenades; not, indeed, because we felt
in need of exercise, but, rather, to acquaint
ourselves with the manners and customs of the
people.
Let me describe my walk along the Pincian
Hill. At the foot of the mountains, is the beau-
tiful church of the Holy Trinity, which adjoins
the convent of the Ladies of the Sacred Heart.
I said mass in the little c hapel of the “ Mater
Admirabilis.” Here the spectacle commences.
The road is in splendid condition, and, for quite
a stretch, very level. The elevation is at least
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one hundred feet above the level of the city.
The one-horse vehicles are here in great num-
bers, mostly occupied by strangers. The double
carriages of the citizens abound in every con-
ceivable style. A few drive with four horses.
All enjoy the privilege of full-blooded horses, the
public hacks not excepted. The scene is as
exciting as a gala day in Central Park, New
York. The police force is strong, and the
uniformed gentry, called soldiers, seem innumer-
able everywhere, and especially in such places,
consequently perfect order is maintained in the
seemingly wildest excitement of the drives. The
pedestrians enjoy a separate walk to the right
and left of the wagon-road, and slowly ascend
the mountains until they reach the summit, 150
feet high. The royal military band have here a
richly-ornamented stand, from which they dis-
course the pleasing, lively Italian music every
evening in summer between 7 and 8 o’clock. It
does not grow dark till 9 or iq o’clock in this
season. From the Pincian Hill you have the
grandest view of the city of Rome. The park
on this mountain is lovely, the air exhilarating,
and the visit delightful. The people, in particu-
lar the strangers, enjoy wine copiously, yet we
have not seen a single case of drunkenness since
our arrival. In the city below, the procession of
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beggars follows you from early morning till
evening. Here all is a clispjay of luxury,- — a rare
exhibit of the two extremes. Adieu !
c. H. B.
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IX.
THE MUSEUMS.
/ Rome , May 29, i8jj.
Of course, I have been able to report but the
more prominent features of our many visits to
churches and other places of note. You would
be greatly astray, however, supposing that we
had been merely following the promptings of
devotion, at the expense of art, science and
antiquity. A whole day was spent in admiring
the antiquities in the different museums and gal-
leries. Besides, we visited the different libraries.
Dear me! who would dare venture even a brief
report of the innumerable interesting works of
art here spread out to view? A good-sized vol-
ume would not contain their respective names.
They should be seen at full leisure to be appreci-
ated. A hurried visit like ours is a vexation
instead of an enjoyment. But we are off to
Tivoli, starting in a double carriage at seven,
and arriving there at 10:30 A. M.; the road is
very good, the morning delightful, the scenery
charming, and the ride one of the most interesting
in my life. At the distance, a portion of the
G6
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ancient town is seen on the summit of the moun-
tain, which it would seem impossible for horses
to climb. But the beautiful winding road ascends
it gradually, revealing most interesting scenery
of mountains and valleys, cliffs and precipices,
which so charm the attention, that the rest on the
brow of the mountain, graced by the majestic old
archway of the entrance into the city, only
awakened the consciousness of the fact that, look-
ing back, the dome of St. Peter’s is in the dis-
tant valley. It is said to have seven thousand
inhabitants, a fact which you would question and
mark down as ridiculous, viewing the apparent
size of the city. But, wandering through the
dirty, narrow streets, blockaded by the few don-
key-carts and the indefinite swarm of idlers
and half-dressed youngsters, of every age and
sex, the conviction begins to grow, that it is
densely populated. The weather is hot, the
women, young and old, are out on the door-steps,
and scattered on the streets, squatting down on
the pavements, sewing, knitting, spinning, chat-
ting, laughing and singing. Many of the men,
young and old, are lying full length in the streets,
on the walls, or any place, which could possibly
hold a lazy human being. The whole town is
the very picture of indolence, yet not a single
intemperate person is seen. Here the guides are
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as bad as the mosquitoes in our own country; if
you shoo away one, half a dozen are ready to
bounce on you. Our first visit was to the famous
“Falls,” which, compared to the Niagara Falls,
are but insignificant. Descending, however, by
the tunnel path made along the river edge of the
precipice, they look formidable enough. The
occasional openings for rest and viewing the scen-
ery, the variety within the small compass is truly
grand. This appears more gorgeous from the
grotto beneath the falls, where the struggle be-
tween the torrent of angry waters, and the stub-
born rocks, present a picture, the sublimity of
which the pen cannot describe, and the pencil can
but faintly imitate, though guided by a master
hand.
The falls are 150 feet, and the work of art — the
river Annio being conducted to this precipice to
prevent an inundation of the city in seasons of
freshets. Standing on the interesting ruins of the
temple of Vista, to the right of which is the tem-
ple of Sebilla, converted into a church dedicated
to St. George, the view of the falls is majestic,
the charming valley being spread out before you.
The ancient villa and gardens of Horace, so bril-
liantly sung in his poetry, now the church of St.
Anthony, are admired at the foot of the opposite
ridge of mountains, and the visitor turns away, a
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greater admirer of the romantic taste of the
ancient Romans, who resided here, rather than
the splendor of ancient Rome — the mistress of
the known world. The ride, returning to the
city, was even more charmingly interesting than
the morning, the descent exposing to view the
grand scenery of the near and distant mountains
to the right and left of the road, the glacier peaks
of those to the right sparkling diamond rays in
the defiant clouds which seemed to sport in the
icy embrace of the crystallized crowns. On the
sides of the hills, dozens of young men and
women can be seen, enchanted by the music of
the harp, violin and flute, stretched on the
sward, or engaged in fantastic dance — the men
in the slightest summer attire, and the women in
the airy corset and short skirt, would seem to be
the happiest people in the world. The attire of the
women standing in groups on the several market
places in Rome, had considerably amused us, but
we only discovered to-day that it is the custom of
the laboring classes, who come there to engage
for the harvesting, haying, etc. I am sure that
you will pardon the inadvertence to the extraor-
dinary stock of cattle, which all of us admired
repeatedly to-day, not only on account of the size,
but particularly the huge horns, in many instances
two feet and more in length, and, on the conti-
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nent, frequently used as ornaments on the man-
tel-pieces, and serving as hat and coat racks;
at the base they are of a pure white and the
trunk of a sky-blue color. The caravans of don-
keys, carrying immense baskets strapped over
their backs, each of them holding a small cart-
load of vegetables of every description, or a huge
load of hay being strapped down on them, which
buries the animal from sight, with a man or
woman perched on the top, is not the least of the
native curiosities.
I believe I have not yet informed you that the
houses in the city of Rome are from three to four
stories high. In the business streets, of course,
the first floor is occupied by the stores, but in
every other instance this is used for stabling pur-
poses. The one of the house in which we are
lodged is occupied by horses and two hacks.
The second floor of the house serves the purpose
of a garret in our country, but here in many in-
stances the rooms are fitted up to rent to strangers.
This is our luck, having a parlor and two bed-
rooms for ten francs a week, on the second floor.
The third floor is used by the family of the
owner of the house, and the fourth likewise, if
they stand in need of it. But the upper floors,
fourth, fifth and sixth, are rented at a handsome
rate to strangers who remain a year or longer in
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71
the city, and learn that these only are considered
healthy.
No room, I think, is free from the Roman
plague, — the fleas, — but the second floor is
inhabited by millions, as our experience teaches,
and the swollen wrists and ankles smartingly
reveal in the morning. But the insect is fully
naturalized in every rank of society, for the
noble lady and lord, the priest and the cardinal
as freely as the peasant, pay their respects in the
streets, in the parlor, in company and wherever
they meet them. So far from being ignored,
these fleas make themselves felt at all hours of
the day and night, and received due attention
from the rich and poor. The lizards, too, sport
numerously on the Roman walls and ancient
ruins, and only the strangers are disturbed by
their pranks and thrusts. The Romans seem to
be on friendly terms with them. c. H. b.
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X.
Venice , June 5, 1877.
We left Rome on Wednesday, the last day of
May, regretting that it was not our privilege of
enjoying all the great and glorious monuments
of antiquity, which, in part, had challenged our
admiration during the twelve full days spent in
the sanctuaries of the apostles, and the innumer-
able saints and martyrs of the primitive age.
But we all felt that we economized time as
profitably as the cruel heat and the many incon-
veniences would permit, to which strangers are
necessarily subjected. Our trip to Naples was a
continuous display of mountain scenery, such as,
above all other countries, Italy abounds in. The
glorious sunset was the most sublime spectacle I
ever witnessed — the sun seemingly contending
with a heavy bank of clouds — wrestling for his
privilege, enjoyed since the day of creation, of
pouring his brilliant rays on the face of the earth.
Cloud upon cloud hurried across the face of the
sun, appearing like huge mountains, the summit
of which lit up, as if smiling a glorious victory —
when, suddenly, as if by strategy, the sun burst
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forth, a flood of beams, to the right and left of
the black thunder-clouds, causing the apparent
victors soon to grow pale in dismay. Lo! the
death struggle seems to have been reached; flash
upon flash of lightning follows in rapid succession,
until the horizon is a sheet of flames, in which
the sun retires for the night. Soon the legions
of Stars in the clear sky celebrate the triumph.
The festive chimes all over the city of Naples
announced the Feast of Corpus Christi on the
following morning. There are three churches in
the immediate vicinity of the Hotel Geneva, at
which we stop. Turning the corner of the hotel,
we faced an ancient-looking building, St. James’
church, in which we entered. Having intro-
duced ourselves, we were privileged to say
mass on the grand altar, — a privilege always
accorded on the continent, if the altar is not
actually occupied by a high dignitary. As
in Rome, so here, the stores are all open.
Thousands rival one another in singing out the
vegetables and other articles for sale. The
streets are crowded with carts, hacks and
vehicles of every description, but, with all, the
churches were crowded, too, proving that, in the
midst of the unholy display, there is faith and
devotion among the people. This, the public
procession of the Blessed Sacrament exhibited ■
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in a marked manner, for it was the largest I ever
witnessed, and lasted from io to 12, notwith-
standing the boiling sun on the bare heads.
The reign of Victor Emannuel and a free Italy
were sadly visible in the disorder of the streets,
and the general order was not what the
solemnity of the occasion called for. There are
three hundred churches in this city. The streets
are clean. Business appears brisk and thriving. .
The exhibit of the extravagances of fashion on
the streets, the gold- and silver-mounted equip-
ages on the promenades, and grand drives in the *
evening, the general display of luxury in all
public places, confirm the impression. The
heat was intense during the day. In the cool of
the evening we joined Revs. A. and S. for a
walk. Getting into a crowd, a sharp Neapolitan
boy, about 11 years of age, snatched Rev. A.’s*
watch-chain. A lively race between the t\^o
ensued, and the cry of “arreti” became loud ancT
general. The lad was caught and Rev. A. had
to appear twice before the police judge to
recover the same.
The military band plays one hour every even-
ing on the public square, which abounds in the
rarest and most luxurious plants, and is a forest
of superb marble statues.
At six o’clock on Friday morning we under-
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took the excursion to Pompeii — fourteen miles
by railroad. This is the favorite summer resort
of the Romans of rank and wealth. The city,
though small and occupying only an area of two
acres, is of great renown. Cicero, Sallust, Lucre-
tius, Ponsa, Castor and many others of the nobil-
ity had villas there. It was overwhelmed and
buried by the famous eruption of Mt. Vesuvius,
A. D. 79, having been much injured by previous
earthquakes. At that time the sea washed the
walls of the city, but it continued to recede after
the eruption, and is now more than a mile from
the ruins of the ancient wharves. The sinking
of a well in 1 748 brought to light several statues,
and led to the discovery of the once-famous Pom-
peii. A great portion of the city has been
brought to light. Nearly all the streets run at
right angles, like a great majority of our cities in
America, but they are miserably narrow, the
widest being thirty-two feet, and the average
width of the rest fourteen feet. The pavements
of the streets are perfectly preserved; the deep
wagon ruts in tlje heavy blocks of stone are a
curiosity. The pavements on the narrow foot-
paths in front of the houses are marvels of
beauty, being frequently composed of stones from
one to two inches in size and diamond shaped,
the whole resembling mosaic. We spent two
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and one-half hours admiring the various ruins,
the pictures, mosaics, vases and other ornaments
in the once-grand palaces, wonderfully well pre-
served in the “Lava tomb” for 1,700 years. The
work of excavating still continues, there being
from 50 to 100 boys from 12 to 16 years of age,
employed on the morning of our visit, each
having a basket strapped on his back, which,
when filled with the loose earth, was carried up
to the bank and dumped into a mud-cart running
on a wooden rail, and drawn by a donkey. We
had a keen appetite, and hurried to the restau-
rant, called the hotel, for a hearty breakfast;
then to prepare for the next adventure — the
great work of the day — the exploring of the
summit of Mt. Vesuvius. Two saddled horses
and mules stood at the door of our hotel, ready
to be mounted as soon as we were ready. Rev’s
S. have the two mules, no doubt because they
looked so tame and subdued, Rev. A. and
your humble servant mounted the two prancing
ponies, our guide having jumped on the third
mule, and we started off for our ascent of Mt.
Vesuvius. Our ponies moved on a lively trot,
which the mules seemed not to appreciate, and
the young man, fortified with a good-sized club,
following the party on foot, raised the shout,
“Na-ce! na-ce!” accompanied each time by an
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ungracious blow of a club on the backs of the
tardy mules. Thus we slipped along the narrow
path between the gardens, orchards and vine-
yards, for about thirty minutes.
The vineyards were of considerable interest,
producing the famous wine called “ Lac-
rimae Christi.” A merry laughter caused us to
halt and look for the cause of the amusement.
It was Rev. S., senior. The mule he was riding
had become disgusted with the cruel use of the
club, and lifted the rider out of the saddle, buried
his head in the sand, while his left foot remained
firmly held in the stirrup, and the good-natured
beast quietly looked on the performance. Having
wiped his face, and being remounted, the guide
and driver gave new emphasis to the “Na-ce,”
and applied the club more vehemently, until we
arrived at the “Half-way house.” Standing on
the very ground on which the precious juice
grows, we concluded to be refreshed with it.
The bottle is worth three francs (doubtless the
price for strangers, only, who are supposed to
have an abundance of gold), but we felt con-
vinced that the wine was pure, tasted good, and
the “Lacrimse Christi” had refreshed us. Another
brave ride brought us to the station, beyond
which no beast can climb, and, from this point to
the summit of the mountain, not a shrub or weed
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of any kind is seen growing, the whole surface
being covered with lava, looking like coarse coal
ashes, which is about knee deep, with occasional
rocks cropping out. The trip looks dismal
enough, as you cast a glance at the height, and the
almost perpendicular path leading to the fiery
gulf. The officious guides are impatient; they
shout “Alley! venez! la! la” holding out to you
the block of wood attached to a rope, slung over
the shoulders of each. Taking hold — another
“Alley!” — and the man behind you pushes you,
and the man with the rope pulls you forward;
the picturesque ascent has begun. Having made
gigantic efforts, and reached the first station, I
was glad enough to sit down on the few steps
dug down into the lava to serve as chairs. I felt
my lungs insufficient for the air needed, and my
chest too small for the bouncing heart, and I
could only continue the journey at the expense of
my life. I declared my determination to go no
farther. But the rough-looking, yet sagacious,
Italians had witnessed such scenes before, and
promptly proposed to carry me up on their
shoulders, — a novel performance. I don’t re-
member of having indulged in that kind of play
for, at least, more than forty-five years. It
seems too grotesque. “Alley! alley!” Here I am
on the shoulders of my two brave fellows, plod-
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ding through the deep lava ashes, until we arrive
at the second station — for rest.
Looking around, Revs. A. and S. continue
their noble struggle and are soon seated near me,
panting heavily and perspiring profusely. Rev.
A. feels too exhausted to proceed and willingly
mounts the shoulders of the guides. . As . they
take their advance, I have a chance of admiring
the grotesque picture, of which I am one of the
ludicrous figures. Suddenly my men stop, let
me down and begin to negotiate for the remuner-
ation. We are about half way up, the sun is
boiling hot and the lava ashes reflect an intoler-
able heat. The man begins by placing the fore-
finger of the right hand on the tip of. the thumb
of the left hand, saying: “Payez cinque?” repeat-
ing “cinque” until he came to the Tittle finger.
My obtuseness in not wishing to understand this
ceremony, only served its repetition in louder
accents, as if I were deaf, “Si vinti cinque?” Hav-
ing relieved their anxiety and having repeated
“Si, si, Signore!” they placed me again on their
shoulders and soon brought me to rest with Rev.
A. at the third station. At this point two men
came running down the mountain, like wild deer,
and joined our company in the task of hauling us
to the mouth of Vesuvius, which was accom-
plished in an hour and a half, Rev. S. persevering
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in walking the whole distance, with the aid of
the rope and two men. The ascent is 4,500 feet,
and we performed it from 10 to 11:30 A. M., on
Friday, June 1, there being not a speck of a cloud
visible in the sky. A raging volume of smoke
rushes from the mouth of Vesuvius, which is at
least half a mile in diameter. This prevents us
from looking into its horrid furnace, and we find
it necessary to go to the opposite side of this
huge funnel, from which the strong breeze drives
the smoke. The most awful sight which the
imagination can depict, is here in view. It would
seem as if you could look down into its fiery gulf
thousands of feet; the side walls of the abyss
showing the red hot sulphur. The smoke rolling
up from beneath, being reddish-blue, growing
darker as it is belched up, by the horrible explo-
sions in the depths, which sounded like distant,
rolling thunder, or like the sea in a storm, dashed
against the rocky shore. We stood gazing into
this frightful and raging gulf of fire for about
twenty minutes, when suddenly a horrible explo-
sion sent a shower of fiery rocks of every dimen-
sion about a hundred feet above the mouth of
the mountain into the dense column of smoke in
the air. It was natural enough that we wisely
thought it best for us to leave, not knowing but
the next explosion might send some of the red
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hot rocks in our direction, to greet us disas-
trously. The sight was as awful as it is fright-
fully grand, and is a lively picture of hell.
We retired. But about midway from our
starting point on the opposite side, our guide
thought well to challenge us to test the heat of
the lava on which we were standing, and pro-
posed to roast a fresh egg which he took from
his pocket. “Cinque minute” was the wager for
a franc, which we readily accepted, and he dug a
hole sufficient to hold the egg and covered it
with the ashes, and at the expiration of “cinque
minute” — five minutes by my watch, he took it
out hot and hard, which the breaking revealed.
C. H. B.
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Venice, June 6, 1877.
There is not, perhaps, a city in the world
which obliges a person to enjoy leisure as much
as this, owing to the fact that the streets are
canals, with but the exception of a few alleys,
and one cannot step out of doors without the
assistance of a “Gondola,” of which there are
thousands for the accommodation of the people.
About our visit to Loretto, you have
learned nothing, and it is worth naming, as we
had to endure, in order to visit it, a night
trip in the miserable coupe of railroad cars
on the continent. We arrived there at five
o’clock in the morning, on Sunday, June 3.
The town is about the distance of one mile
from the depot on a handsome elevation, and
the church may be seen from the valley. It
is evidently the most important building. There
were a few wretched vehicles for the accommo-
dation of the passengers, but we preferred to
walk into the town, which seemed to be but a
very short distance. Our company at this
early hour caused as much curiosity to the mot-
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83
ley crowd assembled in the public market place,
as they and their singular attire was to us.
Though it was Sunday, yet the market was in
full blast, and that in Loretto, under the very
shadow of the “House of Nazareth,” the house of
the Blessed Virgin, so highly prized and conse-
crated by the Apostles, which was placed here
by angel hands. After the unsuccessful termina-
tion of the Crusades, the inhabitants of the towns
of Tersato and Fiume were startled by the mys-
terious appearance of the house on the small
mountain between the two towns. The Bishop
Tersato, Alexander, being sick, had a vision, in
which the Blessed Virgin informed him that the
“House on the hill was the house from Nazareth,”
and in testimony of this revelation he was
instantly cured of his illness. To attest the
identity, a commission was sent to Nazareth in
1291, who found the house gone.
They measured the length and breadth of the
foundation on which it once rested, and, return-
ing, found the measure to agree perfectly with
the mysterious house in Dalmatia, on the hill
between Tersato and Fiume. But, on the 10th
of December, 1294, the “House of Nazareth” as
mysteriously disappeared from Dalmatia as it
had come there, and, having passed over the
Adriatic Sea, it rested near the town of Recanati,
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in the Laurel forest, within the domains of the
pious matron, Lauretta, and from this the place
received the name of Loretto. The shepherds
keeping the night watch were the first who wit-
nessed the event, and the fact that the trees sur-
rounding the house bended as if in reverence to
the house, of which all the inhabitants of
Recanati became eye-witnesses. The fame of the
“ Holy House” spread far and wide. Many pil-
grims visited it, and frequent miracles were per-
formed. But the “banditti,” finding this a grand
harvest for their nefarious trade, soon infested
the forest and neighborhood, and made the place
a much-dreaded spot. Having occupied this
place eight months, the “ Holy House” was again
moved, by invisible hands, onto a neighboring
hill. But the two brothers who owned the prop-
erty began to quarrel over the spoils — the
gratuitous offerings made by devout pilgrims.
Two months later the “Holy House” moved
away from this quarrel as mysteriously as it had
come, and rested on the spot where we saw it.
'A second commission was appointed and visited
the place in Dalmatia, between Tersato and
Fiume and, also, Nazareth, and confirmed the
result of the first Examiners. The Sovereign
Pontiff, Paul II, granted the first indulgencies to
the Pilgrims visiting the “House of Loretto,”
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85
and the abundant offerings of the faithful soon
enabled them to build the grand church which
now surrounds the “Holy House.” Having been
duly introduced to the venerable Rev. Pastor, I
was informed that I could say mass on the only
altar in the House of Nazareth, as soon as the
priest in the act of saying mass would have fin-
ished. This gave me only sufficient time for the
immediate preparation, and, having been rested
on cassock, rotchet and mantilla, the kind Padre
surprised me with the question, “My Lord,
would you like to go into the cammino ? ” Cam-
mino— chimney ? Why, what does he mean?
But, quickly resolving to see it out, I answered
“Yes.” Bowing respectfully, he preceded me,
leading the way to the mysterious spot. He
stepped before a large gate of iron bars,
motioned vehemently to beings hidden from my
view, and out came about a dozen persons, young
and old, and, bowing to me, he introduced me
into the narrow space behind the altar in the
“Holy House,” and pointed out a prie-dieu, on
which I knelt down and began the preparation.
My prayers ended, the mysterious Cammino
returned to my mind, and, looking to the left, the
solution flashed on me in the reflex from the
“gold-plate” which covered the hearth, or fire-
place, of the “House of Nazareth.” The prie-
dieu on which I knelt was standing on the
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hearth, and I was truly in the “Cammino.”
Notice being given by the same good Padre,
Rev. A. and I advanced to the front of the altar,
and commenced mass, at which a pretty large
number of devout people were permitted to be
present and receive Holy Communion. At a late
hour my Reverend companions offered the Holy
Sacrifice in Loretto. The “Holy House” is a
very plain structure of brick, showing marked
signs of rough usage, by time or otherwise; in
particular, the walls to the left or gospel side.
The bricks there seem to be so detached that it
seems a marvel not to fall to pieces. The whole
room is literally lined with votive ornaments
strung along the four walls in grotesque forms.
Jewels abound. The devotion of the people
frequenting the Cathedral, of which the “Holy
House ” forms, as it were, the miraculous
sactuary, proved very edifying in the great sim-
plicity displayed in every act of devotion and
piety. The sanctity of the place would seem to
have inspired the visitors, who were many, with
more than ordinary reverence, for here not one
of them dared to indulge in gayety and unholy
mirth, so general in the cathedrals and places
of worship visited by the pleasure-seekers in
Europe.
Having performed our devotions, we returned
to our hotel for breakfast, which was served in
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better order and taste than we anticipated, the
establishment wanting all the charms of so-called
“modern improvements.” The ludicrous scenes,
however, began when we were going a second
time to the cathedral for a more detailed inspec-
tion of the “Holy House,” and the majestic
shrine of art, which faith and piety had designed,
and the offerings of pilgrims of past ages had
realized. The street from our hotel leads
directly to the cathedral, and is lined with stores
on both sides. The storekeepers were all
women of varied complexions, size and age, who
appealed to us in the most eloquent manner for
the purchase of articles for the “Holy House,”
and proved to be as vehement as the hack-drivers
at one of our union depots in America. Rev. S.,
being moved by one of these, gave away, fol-
lowed into her store, inspected several religious
and other articles, bought a few trinkets, and
declared “that the woman was as eloquent as an
American lawyer.” If I thought that it would
interest you, I should, with pleasure, mention the
extraordinary attire, both of men and women,
which is alone worth a visit to Loretto. It is of
a pattern similar to that you find in old pictures,
or on the stage, gay in colors, and lends to the
wearer an appearance of fairyland. They do not
even approach the customs of France, England
and America.
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Have patience with me, for trying to give you
an idea of the appearance of the every-day attire
of the laboring olass in Italy. The men in the
fields wear a suit of unbleached linen, somewhat
like a blouse; it has no sleeves and it nearly
touches the knees; the whole is wide and hangs
loosely about them. They wear a broad rimmed
straw hat and no shoes or stockings. The women
in the fields wear a head-dress, which somewhat
resembles the coronet of the Sisters of Charity.
The chemise is the only body dress, and the
skirt, made of blue linen, is suspended by two
shoulder straps, which are crossed on the back,
and the lower part of the skirts extends about
three inches below the knees. But the Sunday
dress of these peasants is a checkered shirt, linen
pantaloons and straw hat for the men; the
women, however, wear a corset body, of every
shade of color, such as you see in pictures repre-
senting Italian minstrels. It is very wide at the
upper part — and some kind of shawl, or fre-
quently, some fancy work of very thin texture,
passing over the shoulders, fastens the skirt in
front and on the back. This skirt comes up to
the corset-body and descends a little below the
knees, and is of the brightest colors. Neither
men nor women wear shoes Sundays nor week-
days. c. H. B.
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XII.
Bardonecchia, June 10, 1877.
Who, in America, ever heard of such a place
as the above? Surely, not many, unless they,
like ourselves, were forced, by adverse circum-
stances, to enjoy this recreation. It is a village
in the basin of three grand mountain peaks,
before entering the tunnel of Mt. Cenis.
Although, at the moment of this writing, a bril-
liant and glaring sun showers down a flood of rays
from the snow-covered summit of the mountains,
and the streamlets of melted snow descend in
mad excitement, yet the air is fresh and the
weather delightful. For our enjoyment we ven-
tured on the fatiguing task of climbing some
hundred feet upon Mt. Cenis, following a safe but
steep path, which bore abundant evidences of
being frequented. The magnificence of the scen-
ery spread before us, the grandeur of the view in
diree directions, and the charming beds of fra-
grant flowers at our feet, which seemed to
delight, and smiled graciously for being liberated
from the long embrace of the snow, were an
abundant recompense for the fatigue of the day.
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The railroad train had hardly lost sight of the
city of Milan, when the grade of the road begins
a rapid ascent on a chain of mountains; tunnel
after tunnel shuts out daylight, and each in turn
adds to the disappointment. It is not the greatest
tunnel, which engages the tongue and mind of
every traveler on the train. The roaring, plung-
ing, rushing and foaming of the mad waters of
the river — one moment at your right, another at
your left, and again beneath the train — whisper
feelings of alarm, and nearly everyone steals a
glance through the window of the car, only to be
rewarded by the horrid depth over which the
train is suspended, and the frightful cliff, evi-
dently well disposed to annihilate everything in
case of an accident. The scene, as the train
winds its way through these mountains, passes
over the raging waters, and bids defiance to the
terrific cliffs near and far, are as grand as they
are awful, inspiring as much terror as admiration.
The watches were whipped out of the pockets of
the passengers as often as the darkness of one of
the many tunnels announced the delusion of
entering the grand tunnel, which all were deter-
mined to time. It became a general recreation
and amusement for the passengers, to be sure, at
the expense of the sensitive, who did not enjoy
the sport of being laughed at. But the real sport
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came when we really did enter the great tunnel,
which passes through the very heart of Mt. Cenis,
for the majority of the anxious enjoyed a sound
sleep, and the exhilarating shout of the watchful,
could only arouse them into confidence of the
reality of the dense darkness. This tunnel is
nine American miles in length, and the train
passes through it at a very slow speed. The
windows of the coupes are firmly closed by the
conductor, and the cars are lit by a large lamp
in the center of the ceiling of each coupe. The
train, having emerged from the “ Great tunnel,”
stops at the station “Madone,” which we
greeted at noon yesterday (June 9). Having
gone through the ceremony of the “ Custom
Office,” we made haste to the dining hall, the
delay being forty-five minutes for a solid meal,
eaten with European leisure. But ere we were
fairly at the task, and the dishes steaming
before us, our noble host surprised us by
singing out, from an elevated stand, “ Gentlemen,
you have more than one hour’s delay!” In
Europe such is an official announcement, and
admits of no doubt, and inspired the comfort of a
delightful dinner. But a little reflection on the
indefinite “more than one hour” created distrust,
and the loud whispers made the rounds, until the
startling news reached every ear that a terrible
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mountain-slide had inundated the railroad track
on the preceding day (June 8), and no train
could proceed till the track had been cleared,
which was, indeed, no easy matter. The station
Madone being but a small town, having no reg-
ular hotel, and the night train which had come
in, settled all its passengers before our arrival.
It became sorely evident that we might consider
ourselves in luck in finding lodging for our party
of seven persons. A hurried inquiry revealed
the fact that even the private houses were
crowded, and we had no prospect of finding any
quarters at all. Our party at once resolved to
board the returning train as far as Bardonecchia,
and we were delighted in finding two hotels,
one near the station, and the second a couple
of squares distant, which looked more invit-
ing. The grandeur of this hotel you- can
easily imagine, if I tell you our company
occupies all the spare room in it. The force of
circumstances has introduced us into the bosom
of this marvellous fortification, called into being
by the hands of the Creator, and, as I raise my
eyes, I behold, this moment, the rare-spectacle of
the placid silver clouds kissing the brows of the
three mountain peaks, blushing as they rush
away from the jealous followers, which thirst for
the cold embrace of the icy summits.
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Owing to the indisposition of our friend, which,
on our trip to Milan, had become somewhat
alarming, the heat being so intense, that he
had no courage to leave the hotel, of necessity
our stay was shortened, and we. could not enjoy
the antiquities and works of art to any degree of
satisfaction. Therefore, you must pardon, my
hurried description of what we saw. Milan
is, in my opinion, one of the handsomest cities on
the continent, and what the Europeans deemed a
great fault, I admired, i. e., the streets are nearly
all square, running at right angles. The houses
look clean and fresh, the style and architecture is
bold and grand, and they are five or six stories
high. With the exception of a few great busi-
ness thoroughfares, the streets are narrow;
charmingly clean, having the advantage of a
double wheel track for vehicles, made of smooth
stone about 1 2 to 1 5 inches wide, and the center
of this track being paved with ordinary cobble-
stone. The business houses along the main
streets are superb structures, and, judging from
the crowds constantly passing in and out, the
business transacted must be amazing.
Everyone seems to be familiar with the great
cathedral of Milan, and it seems almost superflu-
ous to attempt more than the mere mention of
our admiration for it. It occupies the entire
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square of ground in the center of the city.
The cathedral of Milan in vastness and magnifi-
cence of structure is not an unworthy rival of St.
Peter’s, Rome. It is built throughout of white
marble and is in every respect one of the most
impressive church edifices in the world. It was
begun in the year 1387, and has ever since been
advancing towards completion, but is not yet fin-
ished. Its form is that of a Latin cross divided
into five naves, terminated by an octagonal aspis,
and supported by 52 octagonal columns of grand
dimensions. The four columns which support
the noble cupola are truly gigantic in size.
The vestibule, or front of the cathedral, is deco-
rated with five rows of statuary on the center
entrance and three rows on each of the side
doors, supported by superbly wrought pedestals
and capping executed in the pure Gothic style.
On the frame of each window on either side,
there are four large statues in richly ornamented
niches, and the peak of every majestic pilaster
between the windows, high above the roof, is
crowned by a grand marble statue. Like the
city hall at Louvain, of which I attempted to
give you an idea in my first letter from the con-
tinent, the disposition of the four thousand six
hundred statues, in and around the cathedral at
Milan, is the picturesque history of the old and
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new testaments, added to which are the statues
of the saints of the country, and those for whom
the people here have a special devotion. Taking
leave of this visit in the fairest of sculptured
beauty and architectural grandeur, and sincerely
regretting that the invulnerable heat does not
permit us to enjoy its admiration for at least one
week, I hurry to bring you to the church
founded by St. Ambrose in the 4th century. It
was thoroughly renovated in the year 1631.
Fortunately, so many of the ancient epitaphs and
other relics of the ancient building remain
imbedded in its walls, that they form a rich
treasure of early Christian antiquities. Like the
several churches in Rome, and the Catacombs,
the church of St. Ambrose is a monumental
evidence of our Holy Religion, and a monu-
mental reproach to the hypocritical pretentions
of all Protestantism. Very reluctantly we bid
adieu to the charming city, with which we do
not at all feel as well acquainted as we would
wish to be. c. h. b.
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XIII.
Munich , June 17, 1877.
We are in Germany, the point aimed for with
more than ordinary anxiety by our friend, who is
now my only companion. In my last I indicated
the indisposition of our friend, which grew more
alarming as the fatigue of the journey increased.
Having hurried away from Milan on his account,
the reverend gentlemen justly feared the delay
his feeble condition would very probably require,
and begged to be allowed to proceed on their
journey. Having become somewhat accustomed
to the musical sounds of the Italian language, the
music of the lingo in this country grates
cruelly on the ear. The Swiss dialect sounds
broad and coarse, but the native brogue of Wur-
temburg and Baden is not a whit more polished.
It would amuse you to see the impatience of our
friend, who is such an admirer of the German
tongue, exclaiming: “Well, well! I don’t under-
stand these people!” Indeed, it required more
than ordinary attention to decipher the gibberish
of these Germans. We will first report the
delightful days spent in Switzerland. Geneva
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dates back to the 4th century as a Catholic and
Episcopal city over wrhich Bishop Isaac of Gen-
eva presided, and in 450 Pope Leo I. declared
that this diocese belonged to the ecclesiastical
province of Vienna. The first cathedral church
built was begun in 584 on the ruins of a temple
of Apollo, finished in 1025 during the reign of
Emperor Conrad II, and dedicated to St. Peter.
But Calvin, the founder of the Presbyterian sect,
succeeded in bringing about a decree of the Sen-
ate, ordering the destruction of the Catholic
altars, pictures and whatever served to promote
devotion. In 1558 Calvin declared Geneva the
“Rome of the reformation,” and the work of
destroying everything belonging to, and calcu-
lated to remind the people of the religion of their
forefathers was vehemently prosecuted. The
city is divided by the river Rhone into two parts
— the upper and lower — the lower being the
ancient city, and the upper being the town of the
aristocracy. Everything bears testimony of its
more recent date. In this the several elegant
hotels are located, and English, French and Ger-
man are freely spoken, but the French language
prevails, it being the tongue of the laborers and
children on the streets. Our hotel is on the foot
of Lake Geneva. As to width, this lake appears
insignificant to persons who have grown familiar
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with and experienced the vast, ocean-like fury cf
our great lakes in America,. Our little Lake St.
Clair in Michigan is a gigantic sheet of water
compared with Lake Geneva. But, being sur-
rounded by the Jura mountains and the Alps, it
well deserves the far-famed historic record for
the superb and majestic mountain sceneries. It
is enrapturing to contemplate the series of gla-
ciers crystallizing the summits of the mountains
as far as the eye can reach, and to behold, in this
hot season, the brilliant rays flashing from them,
as if they were crowned with myriads of dia
monds. A little steamer runs daily excursion
trips on the lake, and the enjoyment it affords to
the admirer of Nature’s grandeur beggars
description.
The old Cathedral, wrested from the Catholics
in the revolt of the Reformation, is an unpre-
tentious, but solid, stone edifice, having two
square towers in front, and showing great negli-
gence, on the part of the occupants, in the sad
decay of the structure. The impiety of the
reformers did much in obliterating the imprints
of its devout founders, yet the monuments and
other decorations of its primitive beauty publish
the historic antiquity of the building and the
true faith that consecrated it to the service of
God. Ascending the hill, not a great distance
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from the old cathedral, we met a small church,
which has a grand portico entrance, adorned
with Catholic statuary, which proclaim the silent
record that this house of worship was taken from
the Catholics. This the name of the street on
the left side confirms, for it is called Purgatory
street, the belief in which the reformers depre-
cated and all Protestantism denies. The street
of Paradise passes in the rear of the church,
which seems to suggest the faith that from
the “ Street of Purgatory” you enter the “ Street
of Heaven,” as the soul goes from Purgatory
into Heaven.
The new Cathedral, built in the upper or new
portion of the city, is the fruit of the zeal of the
present Bishop, Monsigneur Mermillot, who col-
lected the funds for .its erection in Belgium, Hol-
land and France. It is the Italian or new style
of Gothic architecture, but, withal, a graceful
and beautiful structure, the steeple being
unfinished. You surely remember that part
of the history of our own day, that the infidels,
led by the Apostate Hyacinth (M. Loison),
having succeeded in sending Bishop Mermillot
into exile by the act of the Swiss Legislature,
secured, by the same authority, this new
cathedral, as well as the old, and installed the
renegade and apostate priest as their preacher.
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Such acts of impiety and shameless robbery need
no comment, and brand the pretended religion of
the Reformers as the work of sin, of which the
“Father of Lies” is the author. Hence, it does
not astonish even the casual observer, that there
is no religion among either the higher or lower
class of inhabitants of Geneva — yes, not even a
religious pretention or external show. There is
an insignificant chapel on the southern bank of
the lake, at the extreme end of the lower, or old,
city of Geneva, which the Catholics are permitted
to frequent for mass on Sundays and holy days;
yet this toleration is only a silent one, the law
prohibiting any priest officiating in the canton of
Geneva. If, in any Catholic country, such laws
of intolerance were enacted against Protestant-
ism, or any other of the many religious “isms,”
the. howl of persecution, of tyranny, etc., etc.,
would echo from pole to pole, and the Apoca-
lypse would be searched anew for caricaturing
the Catholic church. But the impiety and rob-
bery of infidelity is devoutly reverenced by all
Protestantism; not a cry of shame is heard; not
a word of condemnation is recorded for the
future historian. We drop the subject in indig-
nation and shame.
Leaving Geneva, by rail, for Basel, we were
enchanted for four hours by the magnificent
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glaciers which grace the banks of Lake Geneva.
At times they seemed very near, — two, three
and more summits of mountains overtowering
each other, all clad in the grand splendor of
hyemal grandeur, defying the power of the sun
while sporting his rays in brilliant lustre. Again
they appeared, as if at a great distance, embrac-
ing the flood of luminous clouds, and terminating
in the bosom of the firmament. We were
delighted, in our disappointment, at finding
Freiburg and Berne, in Switzerland, such
thriving cities; more particulary the latter,
which is truly not of small note. The beauty of
the situation, the elegance of the dwellings, the
splendid churches and the imposing public build-
ings bear abundant evidences that there is life
and prosperity within its walls. It seemed a
pity that we could not afford the time for a
longer stay. We cannot forego stating that the
railroad stations in Switzerland are entirely free
from the wretched class of idlers, bummers and
loungers, which infest them in almost every
other country. We arrived at Basel at 8:15
p. M., and, having been liberated from the dis-
tressing livery of dust, as well as refreshed by a
late dinner, the desire for rest precluded the
inclination to explore the city. But, rising early
in the morning and strolling leisurely along the
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streets, which are narrow and not too clean, we
were pleased by meeting an old-fashioned, solid,
and well-to-do class of citizens, evidently in the
steady pursuits of daily life and sober and earnest
industry. The places of business presented a
similar appearance. The houses, their archi-
tecture and all their surroundings indicated that
they had centuries of existence, or had not been
greatly influenced by the innovations of the
present. A venerable-looking Irish gentleman,
whom we met, seeing a stork’s nest on the gable
end of an old church, and having inquired in vain
what kind of a church it was, remarked: “Here
it is no easy matter to tell which is which.” The
impression made on the traveler is that here,
too, religion is below par, for no person manifests
the least enthusiasm on the subject. The
cathedral dates back to the nth century (1019),
and is, perhaps, the most imposing edifice in
Switzerland, having a tower 250 feet high.
Stuttgart (pronounced Stuggart), the capital
of Wurtemberg, is beautifully situated in the
valley of the Nesen, and surrounded by
extensive vineyards in the highest state of
cultivation. This circumstance greatly inter-
ested Mr. M., who, as you know, does not con-
sider his vineyard at home of little importance.
This city presents an active appearance, particu-
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larly if you visit the extensive market-place in
the very heart of the metropolis. The buildings
which surround it are not remarkably ancient,
yet built in the ancient style, which tends to give
to the whole a peculiar charm. The “ Stift
kirche” is a grand old Gothic structure, though
not remarkably large in size. “ Hospital
kirche” is Gothic, but not at all handsome; and
the other churches, as far as we could see, are of
modern architecture, and resemble our churches
at home. The manufactories are many, but
none of them are conducted on a grand scale.
The life and activity in this city is truly sur-
prising.
Freiburg, in Baden, is a city which charms the
visitor, both on account of its antiquities and the
many points of interest it unfolds, and not less on
account of the picturesque and fertile country
surrounding it. The houses, old and new, are
substantially built; fountains of purest water are
frequent; the streets are generally winding and
narrow, with but a few exceptions of wide thor-
oughfares. There are two large and beautiful
public squares for the recreation and enjoyment
of the citizens. The Freiburg cathedral is a
large, grand, Gothic structure, built of red sand-
stone in the form of a cross, with a magnificent
portal, richly sculptured, and surmounted by a
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beautiful Gothic tower, having exquisite but-
tresses, and is 380 feet high. The churches,
except St. Martin’s, are generally handsome in
style and tastefully decorated, but of modern
architecture. The business aspect is not very
striking — rather dull, excepting the weekly mar-
ket, which is the most interesting we have seen
on our journey, not even excepting Italy. It is
numerously attended by the Scharzwadler,
whose dress, language, wares, etc., are a marvel-
lous curiosity, and, if it were not impolite, one
would stand for hours in the enjoyment of the
sights. But they are a well-behaved people,
though a little noisy in striking their bargains.
The city of Ulm, on the eastern border of
Wurtemburg, is a city of less note to persons in
America, because less known than Freiburg and
other cities, yet it abounds in antiquities, and its
history as an ancient “Freetown” has, perhaps, no
rival, it having become so wealthy that its gold
was proverbially said to rule the world. Its gen-
eral appearance is more striking on account of
the antique appearance of the houses than the
thrift of and business activity of its inhabitants.
The large and lofty cathedral is in the old
Gothic style, honored with the moss of ages
and bears the external evidence that it has
braved the storms of centuries. The center
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tower of this cathedral is covered, just above
the gable of the pointed roof of the church,
and the mechanics are hard at work on the two
turrets at the end of the body of the church, and
beginning of the semi-circle of the sanctuary.
It is to be dedicated and consecrated in a few
weeks and the approaching event engages the
heart and mind of every inhabitant. The two
other churches we visited are of no extraordinary
size, but both are handsome. The artistic dis-
play in the stores is of no mean order, and the
variety great. You remember that most of my
former parishoners in the mission of Columbus,
O., hailed from Bavaria, and often treated us to
all that is noble and grand in Augsburg. But,
knowing the infirmity of people thinking their
native land the “Ne plus ultra” in the world,
my anticipations of this city did not run too high.
But we learned with great pleasure that my
surmises proved a great mistake, for it is
truly a grand old town, situated on rising
ground in the fertile plain formed by the junction
of the two beautiful rivers — the Lech on the east
and the Wertach on the west side of the city.
The Maximilian strasse, into which the traveler
enters from the extreme southern end of the city,
coming away from the railway station, is a thor-
oughfare compared with which Broadway in
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New York is insignificant. Driving along this
charming highway from the “ Maximilian platz ”
to the cathedral, nearly in the centre of the old
city, the wealth and prosperity of the inhabitants
is unfolded to view. The houses are old, large
and lofty, and many of them have carved, pointed
and scrolled fronts, adorned with frescoes repre-
senting scriptural scenes.
The cathedral seems to be an irregular Gothic
structure of the 15th century, and contains many
treasures of art. The church of St. Ulrich is one
of considerable note, having a tower 350 feet
high, from which a charming view of the city
and surrounding country is obtained. The old
Lutheran church is so close to it that it seems to
be almost under the same roof. Our short stay
did not permit us to visit the several other
churches, nor the many public buildings and
extensive cotton and other factories — one of the
cotton factories employs over two thousand
hands.
But, before closing this letter, I beg to tell you
of a short visit to Aschaffenburg, of which our
friends in Columbus, O., told us so many won-
derful things. The people here firmly believe
that this town dates back to the Roman times,
and the name has its origin in Ptolemy’s “Asti-
burgum.” Be that as it may, it is a beautiful
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city and presents many points of noteworthy
interest. The most conspicuous church edifice,
built in 974, is replete with fine sculptured monu-
ments and elegant paintings — one by Grunewald,
of renown, and another by* Albert Diirer, whose
fame is familiar. There are many more churches
and public buildings deserving of notice. Among
the latter it annoys the Catholic, visiting what is
called the “Royal Palace,” to learn that it was
originally built by the Archbishop of Mainz for
an Episcopal residence. It is called “Johannis-
bergh,” has five elegant towers and is a majestic
palace. The city’s business aspect is lively, and
a healthy state of prosperity seems to prevail.
C. H. B.
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XIV.
Munich , June iS, i8jj.
I take great pleasure in resuming the report of
the most important event of our journey, taking
it for granted that you share in all that interested
us.
We have come to the bosom of “Father
Rhine” and are in the city of Mainz. It is situ-
ated partly on a flat and partly on an acclivity
rising up gradually from the Rhine in the form
of an ampitheatre. The houses are generally
lofty, and the wide streets, with frequent open
squares, give the whole a venerable and noble
appearance. Many of the streets are] narrow
enough to exclude light and air; several parts of
the town are dark, gloomy and unwholesome
looking. The promenade, called the “Neue
Anlage,” outside of the old city, is spacious and
well laid out, kept in splendid repair, and suc-
ceeds in inviting great numbers of the inhabi
tants every evening. It commands a delightful
view of the city and the charming scenes of the
surrounding districts. The first church visited
on our arrival was St. Christopher’s, which hap-
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pens to be near our hotel and near the Rhine.
It is of quite ancient date, surrounded by an
immense wall of an unsightly form ; the exterior
is like a great heap of stone. The interior, how-
ever, makes amends for the exterior; it is truly
handsome and inspires devotion. Calling at the
pastoral residence, we were informed by a very
clerical-looking porter that the reverend pastor
was not at home, and the reply to our question
when we might see him at home, was: “I am
sorry to say that I don’t know.” Having pre-
sented my card and being in the act of going
away, this mysterious porter called us, saying:
“Excuse me, please; but call around again in
ten minutes.”
Thanking him for the encouragement, we
departed. We promenaded the street during the
allotted time, and returning to meet the reverend
pastor, I remarked to Mr. M.: “If that porter is
not a live Jesuit, he has surely missed his voca-
tion.” The old man smiled at the remark, and
shook his head significantly, as if he thought it a
little profane. The ringing of the door bell was
promptly answered by the same porter, who ush-
ered us into the presence of the pastor. He is a
handsome figure, tall, veil proportioned, middle
aged, gracious in his manner and so cordial that
we at once felt quite at home. As soon as I had
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stated my desire to say my mass in his church
every morning during our stay in this city, he
astonished me by his frank acceptance, bidding
me heartily welcome. We agreed on the hour,
eight in the morning. But my surprise was still
greater on the following morning, when the rev-
erend pastor met us at the door, conducted us
into the sanctuary and put us in charge of two
seminarians, who led me to the “Prie dieu,” orna-
mented in Episcopal colors. The bells of the
steeples were ringing the merry peals, informing
the devout of an extraordinary service, and in a
very short time the church was crowded to its
utmost capacity. The altar was decked in fes-
tive attire, the candles lit shed a flood of light in
the rather dark sanctuary, the organ poured forth
its volumes of melodious sounds. As soon as
mass had begun, the choir of children sang most
charming hymns. The reverend pastor in sur-
plice and stole, attended by the two seminarians
and half a dozen acolytes, served my mass from
beginning to end. The same solemnity was
repeated every successive morning. This was
the only pastor in all Germany who had not been
intimidated into servile fear by the tyranny of
Bismarck. His name is Rev. Graf Von Gallen,
truly a noble man in every sense of the word.
This he proved, by the kindness extended to us
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as in no other city, offering himself to he our
guide in visiting the several churches. Here it
may be pardoned if I take the liberty of record-
ing what seemed very strange to us, but, no
doubt, is dictated by the custom of the continent,
that whilst we received a cordial welcome at the
hands of all, yet no one invited us to share their
hospitality, no one cared or seemed to care
whether we saw anything or not, no one gave
himself the least trouble about us; except during
the few minutes we engaged their time, no one
appeared to be sufficiently our equal to show the
least concern. Rev. Graf Von Gallen, and a rev-
erend curate (whose name I do not at this
moment recall) in Munster, Westphalia, were
the only exceptions, and, if it happen that either
of them should pay me a visit in America, their
gentlemanly conduct and kindness to us will be
repaid with interest.
Having had the pleasure of meeting his Lord-
ship, Mgr. Von Kettler, in Rome, we repaired to
the Episcopal palace, the first morning after our
arrival in Mainz, to pay our respects, but were
sadly surprised, being told that his Lordship had
not returned, but was sick in a Franciscan con-
vent in Bavaria. It proved to be his fatal sick-
ness. He was brought home a corpse, R. I. P.
The cathedral is an immense structure erected
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of red sandstone, but does not impress the visitor
as a handsome or grand church edifice. This, no
doubt, is greatly owing to the fact that every
available spot around the church is occupied by
stores of every shape and form. Our reverend
guide explained to us that the leasing of ground
had become an unfortunate necessity, to raise a
revenue, both for the current expenses of the
cathedral, and the finishing and repairing of the
church itself. Here in this cathedral we saw for
the first time pews in the church, such as are
general in America. But they are very unsightly
compared to ours, the backs of them being very
high and heavy and faced with brass sheeting.
There is a double row of pews through the entire
center of the main body of the church, built on a
wooden floor, laid on the stone pavement of the
church. The interior of the church is handsome,
the altars are grand, the sanctuary is spacious
and imposing. It was begun in 978, and is not
completed. St. Stephen’s church is built on the
summit of a considerable hill, from which you
have a superb view of the city, and can contem-
plate the serene majesty of the Rhine and the
opposite banks. This church is not remarkably
large, but a gem of beauty in every particular,
which prompted me to remark that I should feel
happy if we had such a cathedral in Detroit.
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The several other churches are more or less
handsome, and some of them are enriched by
artistic treasures, but, having enjoyed the elegant
symmetry and the lofty grace of the Gothic
architecture in St. Stephen’s, they all furnish but
a faint charm. Our visit to Mainz was more
than ordinarily agreeable, owing to the unceasing
kindness of Rev. Graf Von Gallen, to whom we
feel greatly indebted. Adieu! c. h. b.
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XV.
Munich , June IQ, i8yj.
You have been somewhat puzzled, no doubt,
that we have remained so long in this city. In
my letters you have not been informed of our
impressions. I have purposely refrained from
adverting to this city, because I desire to devote
an entire letter to it, and here it is:
We arrived by railroad, in the evening, at
about half-past seven, and accepted the recom-
mendation on the omnibus, “The Four Seasons,”
in the German, French and English languages,
which carried us to a splendid hotel, on the Max-
imilian strasse, where we were assigned princely
apartments, and received the kindest attention.
It being Saturday, courtesy required that we
should announce ourselves immediately to the
Reverend Pastor of the nearest church. But, as
we were “Pilgrims in Israel,” we were obliged
to address the gentleman with the gold border
around his cap, called “Portier,” who, like the
hotel clerk in our country, is the man of uni-
versal intelligence on the continent. He is,
invariably, polite and ever attentive to the many
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wants of the guests, and, in this case, addressing
the “Portier,” he lifted his cap, bowed, and
informed us of the proximity of several Catholic
churches. Begging him to send one of the boys
with us to show the way, he promptly called one
of the waiter-boys and directed him to the
“Lieb Frauen Kirche,” but he kindly volun-
teered the information that u It would be hardly
worth while going so far, as the masses were all
over.” As soon as we had fairly started on the
way, I ventured to remark to the boy: u Is there
no church nearer than the 4 Lieb Frauen
Kirche?’” “O, yes; the Franciscan church is
much nearer. They will be glad to have you go
there.” In a few minutes we were at the convent
gate, our message delivered, and we returned to
the hotel for the night’s rest. Sunday morning,
at seven o’clock, one of the finest carriages, drawn
by a pair of spirited black horses, dressed in
magnificent harness, and a driver in gorgeous
livery, stood at the hotel door to bring us to the
Franciscan church A dense crowd awaited our
arrival at the church door, and, being in proper
uniform, the people fell on their knees as soon as
our carriage stopped. The Reverend Father
Superior, accompanied by the Reverend Fathers
and acolytes, standing at the entrance of the
vestibule of the church, asked the Bishop’s
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blessing. This done, the procession moved into
the church, and the immediate preparations for
mass were made. After mass the Reverend
Superior invited us into the convent for break-
fast, and here a venerable brother introduced
himself as one of the former Franciscan Brothers
at St. Francis, in Cincinnati, O., and it was a
pleasure to listen to his conversations about the
“ Queen City” and his interest in American
affairs. Having delayed more than an hour in
the convent, we supposed, of course, that the
people had dispersed, but we were greatly
astonished on seeing still hundreds surrounding
the carriage, waiting for a parting blessing. The
Sunday morning had revealed our “colors” to all,
high and low, in “ The Four Seasons,” and, from
this out, I was addressed as “My Lord Bishop”
and “Your Excellency,” and a keen rivalry had
been awakened among the waiters.
As early as politeness permitted, we called on
His Grace, the Archbishop, but not finding him
at home, we began our explorations in the city
on Monday morning. The cathedral is a large,
but not a beautiful or imposing edifice. The
interior is rather pretty, the altars are many and
handsome, and the statuary artistic.
We visited the church of the Holy Ghost, St.
Peter’s, St. Michael’s, etc., etc., which are all
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substantial and, more or less, handsome buildings.
But, in my humble opinion, this city has no
church edifice of more than ordinary artistic
merit. The visit to the profane was now in
order, and we proceeded to the “Glyptolhek,”
which is a superb and imposing edifice, and con-
tains a rare collection of ancient and modern
statuary. A day spent inspecting its treasures
gives you but an imperfect idea of the many
works of art exhibited. The following day was
spent in the “Pinakothek,” a gallery containing
many of the finest paintings of the world, — the
grand collection, representing every prominent
school of art in every age of the world. It is
second to none of the many art galleries we
have seen, though it is not so systematically
arranged as the Roman. This, as mentioned
before, exhibits, at a glance, the pre-eminence of
each country, having a separate hall for each
nation, with the proper inscription over the
entrance. Here, as well as in Rome and Flor-
ence, the “ Pinakothek ” is crowded with aspiring
artists, engaged in copying the masterpieces.
Many, however, were at work on the “artistic,”
no doubt, by engagements, or upon the supposi-
tion of a more ready sale, because of inferior
value, etc. It seemed a pity that we could not,
at least, afford a week in studying the genius of
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art so richly represented here, and we left the
“ Pinakothek ” with feelings of regret. It strikes
a visitor forcibly that the “Beer Gardens,” the
“Beer Restaurant,” the “Beer Stores,” etc., are a
great feature in this city. Like the peanut, candy,
orange, lemon and fruit stands on the street cor-
ners in our larger cities in America, the small
beer and wine stalls occupy every available nook
and corner of the streets in Munich, under the
honorable title of “Drink Hall.” As it is no dis-
grace for a gentleman or lady in America to stop
at a nut-stand, to have his pocket filled, or to
crack the nuts, and enjoy the orange as he goes
along the streets, so it is no dishonor for a
well-dressed gentleman, or a lady in silk and satin,
to step up to the “ Drink Stand ” and enjoy the
“mug of beer” right there. One of the finest
public squares on the continent is near the
Palace. It is adorned with rarest plants, and
surrounded by an open and richly-decorated
arcade. The several smaller public squares, the
many gardens of public resort, and the prom-
enades are kept in perfect order, and are deco-
rated with statuary of no mean artistic merit.
In the line of manufactures, Munich has gained
considerable renown — mathematical, optical and
surgical instruments, gold and silver lace, jew-
elry, glass, bells, musical instruments, etc., etc.
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The week spent in this city did not allow us
any rest except after dark, where propriety did
not allow a “Bishop” to enjoy the convivial
scenes in the several places of public assemblies.
Of course, Mr. M. frequently stepped out to the
royal “Gualla” to enjoy the original way of
securing and drinking a mug of beer, whilst I
enjoyed the pleasure of a chat with you, and the
dear ones in America. On returning he would
laugh heartily and shout out: “By jingo! it’s too
funny! Just come for a moment to see the crowd
of men, women and children assembled in the
‘Gualla;’ you never saw the like,” etc., etc. My
answer, invariably, was: “No, no, old man, that
wouldn’t do,” and we would quietly settle down
to an Havana. c. h. b.
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XVI.
Cologne , June 24, i8jj.
We availed ourselves of the first point for
obtaining one of the best steamers on the Rhine,
what the people here call the “Fast boat,” but
it is not as good as a first-class ferry-boat in our
country. The morning being bright and pleasant,
we joined the company of travelers, who had
seated themselves on the upper deck of the
steamer for the more perfect enjoyment of the
scenery along the historic river. Every traveler
on the Rhine seems to indulge in ecstatic admi-
ration of all that is unraveled to view, and as the
scenes follow in rapid succession, the enthusiasm
grows in the novelty. This is particularly true
when the romantic landscapes, so richly inter-
spersed with ruins of every description, come to
view as you glide down the stream between Bin-
gen and Coblentz, where many stately mansions
and castles add to the grandeur of the scenery.
At the risk, however, of being adjudged of not
having a just appreciation of the sublime, I ven-
ture a deviation from the general key-note that
the unparalleled majesty of Father Rhine can
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only be seen and appreciated by those who have
not been over-awed by the grandeur and majesty
of the mountain scenes of Switzerland and Italy.
The frequent towns and cities along the banks of
the Rhine lend the scenery a cheerfulness which
you miss in Italy, and, in a great measure, in
Switzerland, and the many spacious and inviting
villas situated in the valleys, surmounted by
the innumerable varieties of gardens and vine-
yards on the mountain slopes challenge the weary
traveler to enjoyment in nature’s garden of
unsurpassed beauty. It would seem that Father
Rhine had grown jealous of our want of apprecia-
tion of its vast grandeur, so brilliantly illumined
by the flood of rays from the noonday sun; a
brisk breeze, followed quickly by a gentle gale,
cast a sombre cloud over the scenes, which trans-
formed the whole into a mysterious, awe-inspiring
grandeur, that could only be increased by the
heavy thunder-claps and the vivid flashes of light-
ning, which send a thrill through every frame,
yet the declaration was unanimous that the scene
was unparalleled.
As soon as the steamer had passed the sharp
angle in the river and left the town of Brauboch
on the right shore, the city of Coblentz was in
sight at the distance of about five miles. It is
beautifully situated in the basin formed by the
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confluence of the river Moselle with the Rhine —
hence the ancient name, “Confluentes,” from
which the modernized “ Coblentz ” is derived. In
the new portion of the city, called “Clemen-
stadt,” the streets are spacious and airy, the
buildings comfortable looking and handsome, the
whole making a very favorable impression. But
in the old town the contrary is pretty general.
The church of St. Castor, built in the park of
the confluence ©f the two rivers, dates back to
A. D. 836, and is the place where the grandsons
of Charlemagne divided the vast empire into
Germany, France and Italy in 843. This church
is rich in ancient monuments, and has a beautiful
altar piece, the history of which we did not
learn.
We met some travelers who had come down
the River Moselle, and confidently maintained
that the scenes on its banks surpass those of the
Rhine in grandeur.
The name of the city of Bonn is quite familiar
to Americans — at least, those of German descent
— who are treated to a variety of incidental infor-
mation about it in the German newspapers, many
of the editors having been students of the famous
University of Bonn. I confess that I felt consid-
erable interest in seeing the city, and studying
for myself the various points of note, so much
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eulogized and richly colored by the admirers of
their “Alma Mater.” It is pleasantly situated
on a gentle acclivity, which gives it a cheerful
and pleasing appearance. The streets are rather
narrow, indifferently lighted and aired, yet, from
its delightful situation, it is one of the most
desirable places of residence on the Rhine. It
enjoys the reputation of a high antiquity, it having
been a fortification of the ancient Romans (Bonna
ad Rhenum), the seat of many wars, and often
destroyed and rebuilt. The last time it was
restored in the 4th century by the Emperor Julian.
But it derives its great celebrity from the
University, which has had many distinguished
men among its professors. The average number
of students is between six and eight hundred,
engaged in the study of Theology, Law, Medi-
cine and Philosophy. The building of the Univer-
sity is rather an immense pile than elegant or
grand, but, being situated on a spledid elevation,
it looks imposing at the distance.
Bonn is the birthplace of the celebrated
musician, Beethoven. It has eight churches,
but of no extraordinary architectural merit.
The city of Cologne occupies the site of an
ancient city, dating back some thirty years before
the birth of Christ. It being the birthplace
of the Empress Aggrippina, she prevailed on
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her husband to establish a colony there in the
year 51 A. D., which was called “Colonie
Aggrippina,” from which it retains the present
name. In 870 it became incorporated with
Germany, and continued a most flourishing city
for several centuries, numbering, at one time,
in the twelfth century, it is said, over 150,000
inhabitants. But the rising maritime power of
Holland and England, closing the navigation of
the Rhine in the 16th century, greatly reduced
its prosperity and importance in the commercial
world. The public buildings are many, and
some of considerable activity and rich in monu-
ments, but the most remarkable are the
churches. Of course, you expect me to begin
with the “Dom” or cathedral, which, as you
know, was commenced by Charlemagne in 814,
and, it is believed, will be completed in a few
years. But the foundation of the present grand
structure was not laid until 1248, upon the site of
the old one, which had been destroyed by fire.
The many obstacles to the progress of the build-
ing, especially the want of necessary funds for
this gigantic work, caused centuries to roll by,
generation upon generation to pass away, without
even a reasonable hope of seeing this cherished
sanctuary completed. It is argued by some
travelers that it is inferior in grandeur to the
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cathedral in Milan, but, in my opinion, this of
Cologne surpasses it in loftiness and grandeur.
The fact that it is composed of sandstone,
whereas that of Milan is of pure white marble,
at first sight does not so pleasingly impress the
visitor. I will not attempt a detailed description
of the “Dorn,” but venture the assertion that, in
vastness of design, in beauty of Gothic archi-
tecture, in chasteness of execution, and in
imposing grandeur as a whole, it is second to
no church edifice in the world.
My own name invited me to the shrine of the
Magi, the “ Holy Three Kings,” whose remains
are deposited in the monument, erected by Catho-
lic piety in the Dom of Cologne. The pious
tradition furnishes the names of Melchior, Cas-
par and Balthazar, of whom Caspar is said to
have been the younger in age. By this same
source we are informed that the mortal remains
of the Magi were translated to Constantinople in
the early ages of Christianity, later carried to
Milan, and in the twelfth century, 1162, they
were removed to Cologne by Frederic Barba-
rossa. In the shrine of gold in the cathedral the
skulls of the Magi, with the inscription of their
respective names, are exposed to view, and to
the veneration of the faithful. In this same
monumental reliquary are exposed the mitres,
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croziers, etc., of several of the first and saintly
Prelates of Cologne.
St. Peter’s church, in Cologne, is not a
remarkable structure, but of great interest to the
lover of art, on account of the famous altar-piece
representing the crucifixion of St. Peter the
Apostle, painted and presented to the church by
Rubens, as a memento of his baptism in that
church.
St. Ursula’s church is remarkable as the
immense reliquary of the 11,000 virgins and
martyrs, the companions of St. Ursula. Much
has been said, pro and contra, in relation to the
tradition of the martyrdom of St. Ursula, and
the eleven thousand virgin martyrs, but I beg to
offer what Binterim, who is an acknowledged
authority, gives, i. e. : “After the battle at
Cholans, in 451, many women, thousands in
number, took to flight to escape the brutality of
the Huns, led by Attilla, the scourge. At this
time the occupation of Britain, by the Anglo-
Saxon, took place, which, according to Bede,
compelled thousands to seek safety on the con-
tinent. This would account for the great num-
ber of virgins in company with Ursula. But
they fell into the hands of the Huns, either in
the act of crossing the Rhine, or after the seige
of Cologne.” Be this satisfactory or not, for my
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part I became perfectly convinced when I saw,
with my own eyes, the walls of St. Ursula’s
church, literally lined with the skulls of these
virgin martyrs, and the sanctuary decorated
with the bones of these saints. From the
moment you enter the church everything, from
the tombs along the walls and ceiling of the
temple, from the side walls to the sanctuary,
everything bears testimony, — the very skulls and
innumerable bones exposed to view speak, in
solemn tones, of the grace, of the victory
achieved by the heroic virgin army. The lan-
guage of the Protestant American young lady,
who, having carefully examined all, said, in the
“Golden Chamber,” the special shrine of St.
Ursula: “After all this, who can doubt the
history of the Ursula martyrs?” “It would be
downright impiety.” This sentiment expresses
the conviction with which every sincere soul
leaves St. Ursula’s church. I bring along with
me two of the bones taken from the tomb nearest
the altar, on the epistle side, properly authen-
ticated.
St. Gereon’s church we found draped in deep
mourning, and the corpse of the deceased rever-
end pastor clad in sacerdotal robes, and placed
on a catafalque before the main altar. We
learned from the sexton that the same venerable
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pastor, last evening, whilst kneeling before
the main altar and saying the rosary aloud
for the faithful who crowd the church on such
occasions, was seized by a dreadful pain and
fell dead.
St. Gregory of Tours relates that there was a
beautiful basilica in Cologne in the 6th century,
erected by St. Helena in honor of the martyrs of
the Thebean Legion under the leadership of
Gereon. St. Norbert desiring to abtain some
relics of the martyrs, some of the tombs
(“sarcophagi”) were opened in the year 1121
in the presence of many witnesses, as attested by
Rudolph, abbot of St. Pantalion, and they found
the remains still wrapped in the purple military
cloak, marked with a large cross, and a piece of
sod, saturated with blood, at their side. This is
verified by the Roman martyrology (1589), in
which we read: “At Cologne, on the 10th of
October, are commemorated the martyr St.
Gereon, with 318 others, who patiently sub-
mitted their heads to the sword, in defense of
true piety in the persecution of Emperor Maxi-
milian, in the third century.”
Before taking leave of Cologne, I beg to men-
tion St. Cumbert’s church, which has a magnifi-
cent altar, — a beautiful imitation of the grand
altar in St. Peter’s, Rome.
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There are many other churches with their
treasures, which we visited, and deserve mention,
but I must forbear, having spent this evening to
a late hour in writing this imperfect sketch of the
most important events. c. H. B.
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XVII.
Osnabruck, June 2g, i8jj.
We have arrived at the extreme northern ter
minus of our contemplated trip on the continent.
The lesson received from Mr. M.’s experience in
his native parish prompted the determination that
it would be folly for me to visit Essen in the
grand duchy of Oldenburg. For, although he
was a young man of twenty years when he left
his native country, yet not a single person recog-
nized him, and but a few “ancients” remained
who remember his existence after many detailed
explanations. Even the venerable “Rev. Kaplan,”
who had been his teacher in the rudiments of
Latin, coolly remarked upon the introduction of
his former pupil: “How should I know you?”
This disappointment brought tears to Mr. M.’s
eyes. Why should I venture on a similar disap-
pointment, it being quite sure that no person in
Essen could have a faint recollection of the boy
of twelve years, who, in company with his par-
ents, left for America in the last week of Febru-
ary, 1839; more especially since no immediate
relative survived our return to the native land?
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The city of Osnabruck does not present much
of general interest, though in antiquity it ranks
among the historic cities. The Episcopal see
was founded by Charlemagne in 810, and the
cathedral, built in the 12th century, is a large
structure of the Byzantine style of architecture.
The main alt.ar in the cathedral is of recent date,
consists of a plain marble altar table, supported
by beautiful marble columns, a graceful taber-
nacle in the center, with two steps for candle-
sticks on each side, and over this altar is a splen-
did canopy, resting on four grand columns of
marble. It stands in front of the choir, i. e.,
the chapel, in which there is a beautiful throne for
the Bishop, and the canons assemble for the
recital of the office; thus the celebrant singing,
or saying mass, is in full view of the dignitaries as
well as of the faithful in the body of the church.
As you turn to the walls of the epistle side of the
church, the eyes rest on a simple monument over
the saintly remains of the hermit, who, in the
days of primitive fervor, had immured himself in
a cell on the spot where, now, one of the steeples
of the cathedral stands. Upon this monument
rests the “Block of wood” which served the her-
mit as a pillow, and the iron discipline used in
religious vigor for mortification. On a slight
elevation hangs the “Iron shirt” or bodice made
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of heavy wire. We visited the several other
churches, but none of them are more than of
ordinary beauty of style or size. In passing from
the main street into one of the narrower alleys,
we noticed a great many houses bearing the year
1500 and 1600. The peculiarity of these ancient
buildings is chiefly that they are five or six
stories high, the first two or three stories forming
the body of the house, and the other three stories
are under the roof. Each of these houses has an
inscription on the front gable end, generally in
the Latin, but occasionally in the old German
language. They are mostly quotations from the
Bible and always end with year, “Anno Domini ”
1500 or 1600, whatever the particular year of the
century it happened to be, being added.
Our uncle, Rev. Otto H. Borgess, having fin-
ished his studies in the Theological Seminary of
Munster, I felt considerable interest in the many
wonders so frequently rehearsed by him, and
others, who, like him, seemed to think Munster
the greatest city in the world. It existed in the
time of the reign of Charlemagne, but was evi-
dently of minor importance in its early history.
It was once a strongly fortified city, with eight
massive gates, but the fortifications have been
leveled and nothing remains of them except the
delightful promenades around the city. On the
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main streets the business houses are full Gothic
structures, provided with arcades to support the
upper stories. This furnishes a charming side-
walk on either side of the street, shielding
against the burning sun or the pelting rain, and
provides the shopkeepers a place for a fine dis-
play of their wares.
The cathedral is built in the Gothic style of
architecture, is a large building and has the
appearance of belonging to antiquity, but I could
not ascertain the particulars of the date. The
church of St. Lambert, which is now being
extensively repaired, is a grand Gothic edifice,
and has a tower 400 feet high. It leans so much
to one side that its fall seems so imminent to
strangers that there is no comfort in looking at
it. But in that condition it has braved the
storms of centuries. The church has become
historic from the three iron cages, which have
remained suspended, from about the center of the
tower, since the year 1536. The excitement of
the reformation had crazed the 'Ana Baptist
leaders — John Von Leyden, Bernard Knipper-
dolling and Bernard Krecthing — so that, under
the pretext of religous reform and the inspira-
tion of the Holy Ghost, they taught the wildest
doctrines, practiced the grossest abominations,
and became barbarous and shameless in their
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public conduct. Admonitions to recall them to
the paths of virtue, the threats to punish them
for their flagrant violations of law and social
decency, were not only in vain, but responded by
those crazed reformers in publicly calling on the
people for an insurrection and revolt against
legitimate authority. Such repeated acts of
violence demanded their arrest and trial for
high treason. The three, having been con-
demned to death, were imprisoned in the “iron
cages,” and suspended, about 200 feet from the
ground, in the tower pf St. Lambert’s church
until the day of their ^executioft The house in
which John Von Leyden lived is still shown in
the market-place. The city hall, noted for
having the articles of peace signed in it in 1648,
is an imposing Gothic building with a magnifi-
cent colonade running around the lower story.
Here I remember that our mother undertook a
pilgrimage of twenty leagues’ distance from
home, as an act of kindness to Mrs. Faske, who
went to America, I believe, and lived some-
where in Illinois. The object of the pilgrimage
to Telgte was the cure of the son of Mrs.
Faske, who was obliged to walk on crutches,
and, being a lad of my own age, and a school-
mate, I have a vivid recollection of the fact.
The boy went to Telgte, in the company of his
own and our mother, and returned without the
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crutches, having been so perfectly cured that he
could walk with ease, and grew up a handsome
boy. This circumstance made me resolve to
pay a visit to Telgte, it being only a distance of
seven miles from Munster. The turnpike road
is as level and smooth as it possibly can be, and
furnishes a pleasant carriage drive. But on the
left side of this there is a pathway of about six
feet in width from the city of Munster to Telgte,
for the devout pilgrims. At the distance of
every mile on this pathway there is a beautiful
statue of the “Mater Dolorosa,” and thus the
seven dolors of the Blessed Virgin are repre-
sented, and suggest the appropriate subject of
meditation on the way to the votive church, and
chapel of the miraculous statue in Telgte. The
statue, at the time of our visit, had been removed
from the chapel and stood on a simple but neat
pedestal, close to the communion railing in the
sanctuary of the main altar. Seeing it at a
distance, it presents nothing remarkable. It
represents the “Mater Dolorosa” with her arms
crossed over the breast, the head inclined to the
left, and the face and eyes turned heavenward.
As the church was filled with devout people, I
felt delicate in advancing, fearing to disturb their
devotions, but being encouraged by the priest, I
advanced slowly until we stood right closely near
the statue. What a change! It seemed so
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life-like — so devotional! The expression of the
sorrowful eyes so real, that it fascinated our
admiration, and held us captive in sympathy.
Having performed our devotion as our dear
mother did, in the same place, some forty years
before, we returned to Munster.
Our visit to Wesel was interspersed with feel-
ings of indignation, of sympathy, of sorrow, and,
also, of admiration. For, though we saw none,
yet we well knew that the noble defenders of the
faith — the many victims of the cruel and abom-
inable “Falk Laws,” or, as it is here generally
called, “The Cultus Kampt” — are incarcerated
in the “Prison,” which looks as cheerless from
without as it surely is within. The town had lost
all its interest for us, and we went there rather as
an act of devotion and sympathy for the impris-
oned religious priests and lay Catholics who are
compelled to drink the bitter cup prepared by the
impious Bismarck and his allies, for their fidelity
to God and His church. It is true that in this
prison the martyr’s blood has not flowed, and the
scourge has not rent the innocent and virgin
flesh, but tbe weight of the chains, the want of
proper food, the damp and chilly prison cells,
have demanded their full share of victims, and
death has ended the sufferings of many withm
the walls of this miserable bastile. Adieu!
C. H. B.
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XVIII.
Amsterdam, July 6, 1877.
It happened that I had entirely forgotten the
address of our venerable uncle, the only surviv-
ing brother of our deceased mother — Herman
Henry Dinkgreve, who has lived about half a
century in this city. But remembering that Rev.
B. G. Soffers had obtained information from the
Redemptionist Fathers, and thus been enabled to
hand him my photograph, which he kindly volun-
teered to take, we were obliged to have recourse
to them. The good lay brother spent a half da)',
and only late in the evening was able to bring
the news that our good uncle would meet us at
the convent the following morning after mass. I
had seen him once or twice, on a visit in Ger-
many, before we left for America in 1839, but
even my imagination failed to picture him, and
hence we both were entire strangers at our meet-
ing. But introducing himself to me after mass,
he was all reverence, yet all joy at heart, and a
flood of tears testified to his sincerity. He is
small of stature, about my own height, well pro-
portioned, rather thin, his hair quite gray, his
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countenance quite fresh, and upon the whole
looks very well preserved for his advanced age.
If my memory serves me he is either two years
the senior or junior of my mother, and in either
case over seventy years old. All his children and
his son-in-law had accompanied him to the hotel.
They spent the better part of the day with us in
rehearsing the past, and learning as much about
America as they could realize or take in. He
assured me over and over again that he had
always hoped and prayed for the happiness of this
day, and was willing to say with Holy Simeon :
“Now thou dost dismiss thy servant, O, Lord,
according to thy promise in peace.” Although
the city of Amsterdam is built on low, wet
ground, and its surroundings want all the pictur-
esque beauty of the many cities which we have
visited, yet it makes a good impression, and has
many charms peculiar to itself. It is true
that the greater part of its streets gre canals,
and the rest very narrow, yet, with a few
exceptions marvelously clean. In Venice we
found the principal streets “all canal,” with
not even a footpath on either side. But here
the five principal streets are wide, and of these
the “Heeren Stratt,” “Keizer Straat” and the
“Prinzens Graacht” are the most elegant. They
are two hundred and twenty feet wide, the canal
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139
in the center is sixty feet wide, and on either side
of the canal the street is eighty feet wide, which,
being well paved, makes them handsome thor-
oughfares. There are two hundred and ninety
bridges over these canal streets, which are arched
to an elevation, so as not, in the least, to interfere
with the free navigation on the canals.
The houses are mostly constructed of brick,
approached by flights of stone steps, being fre-
quently six and seven stories high, and very
pointed at the top, with the gable end to the
street. The lower part of the house is what we
would call a basement story, but entirely over-
ground. Among the public buildings, the Palace
is the most remarkable. It is an immense struc-
ture, built of stone, in the form of a parallelogram
262 feet long, 206 feet wide, 108 feet high, and
rests on 13,659 piles driven 70 feet into the
ground. Originally it was built for a town hall,
and occupied by the Magistracy, the Courts and
other city officers, but in 1808 it became the
Royal Palace. The great hall in the Palace is
hi feet long, 52 feet wide and 90 feet high, and
lined throughout with white marble.
I need not remind you of the historic fact that
Amsterdam was originally a Catholic city and
continued to be until 1578, when religious liberty
was granted to all the sects. The principal
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church edifice is the “New church,” founded in
1408, 350 feet long, 210 feet wide, and has 95
windows of stained glass. Of course, it was
intended to -be a Catholic cathedral, but as soon
as the Calvinists gained strength, and especially
the support of the government, by becoming the
state church, they saw no reason of not, by force^
taking possession of the best church. At present
there are sixteen Catholic churches in the city,
all of them very good, substantial edifices, but
none of great architectural beauty or imposing
grandeur.
The art gallery contains a complete collection
of the masterpieces of Dutch artists, and a grand
collection of prints, perhaps unsurpassed in any
country. But as the collection of paintings is
confined to the productions of the country, it can-
not give a general favorable impression to the
visitor who comes from Munich, Naples, Flor-
ence and Rome.
Utrecht is not a remarkably large city, but it
has some points of interest. It is built on some-
what of an elevation, and in the shape of a harp.
It is traversed with two considerable canals,
which are crossed by numerous stone bridges.
The fortifications which formerly surrounded the
city have been leveled, and now form a delight-
ful promenade of three miles. Outside of this
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141
city is the “Maliebaan,” where eight rows of
magnificent shade trees form a double carriage
way, and a beautiful foot path on each side of the
center road, the whole being as charming a
promenade as the most fastidious could desire.
It was formerly an archiepiscopal city, and the
cathedral erected in 1382 is, to this day, the
grandest structure in the city, and in its present
dilapidated condition it displays its ancient archi-
tectural beauty. The tower, in the Gothic style,
stands entirely detached, and a considerable dis-
tance from the church, forming a grand archway
for the entrance into the churchyard, and is 388
feet high. Protestant piety ( ?), of course, had
to appropriate this ancient church, though the
small space, fenced in by boards — not even
honored with a coat of paint — which is used on
Sundays for their service, shows that they never
had any use for it, and cannot, to-day, offer any
apology for driving the Catholics out, who
devoutly filled it.
In this city the banished Jansenists of France
swelled the number of this heresy to such a
degree that they established the church of
Utrecht, and elected their own archbishop in
1723, who Was consecrated by the excommuni-
cated Bishop Varlet, a fugitive from France.
The consecrated Pseudo, Archbishop Steenhaven,
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announced his promotion to the Pope, and asked
for the Papal confirmation of the same, which
every Archbishop succeeding him has done, for
they profess the faith of the Primacy of St.
Peter and his successors. This miserable heresy
established two suffragon Bishoprics, one in
Haarlem, the other in Deventer, having, in all,
about twenty-five parishes, thirty priests, and
numbering about four thousand adherents. At
present it has hardly an existence, and would,
long since, have died out, had it not received the
support of the Calvinistic government. They
own three churches in this city, and, in all, there
are eleven Protestant churches in Utrecht, but the
entire church-going Protestant population could
be crowded into the old cathedral. Here, too,
the five Catholic churches are not extraordinary
in size, nor in style of architecture, but the spirit
of the faith, the fervor and piety of the Catholics
in this city, is manifested by the numerous attend-
ance at mass on week days, and the thronged
churches on Sundays. The quarterly market-
days are great events. Several days before the
opening of the market there is a great stir and
activity on the spacious grounds of the market,
in the erection of the many booths for the great
variety of goods offered for sale, as well as for
the many traveling shows, which move from the
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one great market to the other, and seem not the
least ingredient to make the whole a success. In
these the minstrels, the clowns, the rope-walkers
and dancers, the flying Dutchman, the menagerie,
etc., take an important part, especially the open-
ing ceremony, which is as amusing as it is
ludicrous. To the stranger the affair looks
foolish enough, but, upon mature reflection, very
little, if any, fault can be found, for it is a kind of
national frolic, in which the young folks delight,
and the older find a share of amusement, and
look on with pleasure. It is a “Gay show,” but
strictly moral from beginning to end. What I
here assert of the jolly opening ceremony, I
cannot presume to affirm of the week’s market,
which is carried on in dead earnest, and indulges,
no doubt, in as much dishonesty in this city as
the world over.
Our visit to Rotterdam proved to be a delight-
ful surprise. The city, in population, is second
in the kingdom of the Netherlands, but in its
commercial aspect it seems to have no rival. It
is the first city in which, up to date, we observed
an American activity, earnestness and push in
every branch of business. The main streets are
crowded with people, not, indeed, whiling away
their time, and enjoying the brilliant displays in
the store windows, but serious in their demeanor,
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and quick in their movements. They look busi-
ness. The dense procession of vehicles of every
description, loaded down with merchandise,
pressing up and down the street, the yells of the
drivers urging the beasts, and the right of way
in the throng, add not a little to the busy scene.
The canals, in the very heart of the city, are of
sufficient depth to permit the largest sea-faring
vessels coming right up to the large ware-
houses. The life, stir and general bustle at these
wharves for unloading the ships is only mellowed
by the songs of the sailors, which are as jolly as
they are agreeable. The navy-yard, or the
ship-building establishment of the government,
is an extensive affair, and equipped with all the
modern improvements in that line of business.
Learning that we came from America, the
officers received us kindly, showed us marked
attention, and afforded us every facility to inspect
in detail every department of the works.
The finest church is that of St. Lawrence, built
in the 15th century (from 1414 to 1472), which,
of course, the Calvinists have possession of,
though originally a Catholic church. It is a
Gothic structure, pretty large and handsome, with
an unfinished tower. There are several Catholic
churches in this city, but here, as elsewhere, the
limited means of the Catholics, when robbed of
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everything by the violence of the reformers, did
not permit them to build grand churches.
Rotterdam is the birthplace of the famous
Desiderius Erasmus (his father’s name being
Gerhard Helic) in 1467. As he was a man of
great learning, honored by Bishops, Cardinals
and the Pope, and courted by the potentates of
Europe, being in high favor with the most distin-
guished men in England, the reformers made the
greatest efforts to gain him for their unholy cause/
It is evident from his letter to Luther, whom he
chastised for his ill-temper and vulgarity, and
counseled to meekness and Christian nobility, that
he was not without sympathy for the reformers.
But it is not less evident that, after the condemna-
tion of Luther and the associate reformers, Eras-
mus emphatically denounced them and repeatedly
declared his adhesion to the Catholic church. In
a letter written from Basel, May 19, 1535, he
declared, “ That he would tolerate no one in his
house who is affected by the new doctrine.” Of
his death (1536) it is recorded that his last
words were: “O, Jesus; have pity on me! O,
Lord; deliver me! Mercy, O, Lord! Mercy!”
But no mention is made that a priest had been
called, or that he had received the last sacra-
ments of the church. Two weeks before his
death he stated in a letter to his friend, John
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Goclen: “In Basel, it is true, I live among my
most sincere friends; but, on account of the dif-
ference of faith, I prefer to end my days in
another place.” June 28, 1536. This seems to
justify the conclusion that he did not only perse-
vere in the Catholic faith, but also desired to die
fortified by the lqst sacraments.
The Hague is the capital of the Netherlands.
In it the king, the foreign ambassadors and the
chief officers of the kingdom reside, and the
supreme court is held. It impresses a person at
once as a royal city, in the military displays and
general attire of the officers of the government.
It is rather pleasantly situated, traversed by
canals, and kept very clean. For width and
straightness of streets, and general elegance of
the public buildings, it will bear comparison with
the most of the continental cities. The royal
palace is the most important structure in the city,
but we were better pleased with, and more inter-
ested in, the court of Holland, which is a large
irregular building in various styles, on the Vyver-
berg, founded in 1249, containing the hall of the
assembly of the States General, which is richly
ornamented with paintings of no ordinary merit.
The public parks are frequent in the city, not
more than four or five squares apart. The larg-
est and most beautiful is the Queen’s park, in
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which the royal military band discourses charm-
ing music every other evening in summer. A
numerous herd of spotted deer sport for the
amusement of the people, frequenting the park
during the day, and crowding it in the evening.
The order kept by the police is perfect, and
no vulgarity is ever heard. The cars run
through the principal streets of the city to
the sea-shore, a distance of about fwo miles.
This is a delightful excursion, the sea air
refreshing, and the place itself charming; the
bathing establishments arranged with admi-
rable nicety, and the restaurant and hotel accom-
modations are perfect. Hague is one of the prin-
cipal summer resorts for Englishmen, and in
consequence nearly every hotel keeper speaks the
English language pretty fluently. There are
twelve churches in this city, five of them Catho-
lic; of these, St. James, built in the 16th century,
is the largest and most handsome. Of course, it
was appropriated by the Calvinists. * * *
c. H. 13 .
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XIX.
Hertogenbosch , July 16 , i8yy.
This city, though of considerable antiquity and
historic fame, yet does not present much for the
admiration of the traveler. In America it is bet-
ter known by the French name “Bois le Due.”
By its name it points to the origin in 1184, when
Godfred III founded the town on the hunting-seat
of the Duke of Brabant. Being a fortified city,
it withstood the sieges of 1601-1603, but in 1629
it was taken by Prince Frederic Henry; again
by the French in 1794, and finally by the Prus-
sians in 1814. We called on His Grace Arch-
bishop Swysen, who proved a happy exception in
not only receiving us with formal politeness, but
cordial kindness, manifested in many ways. He
is eighty-two (82) years of age, quite gray — yes,
his hair is white — very emaciated and feeble, of
tall, handsome stature, and his mind remarkably
bright and vigorous. He accompanied us to the
cathedral church to point out the work of the last
ten years in restoration. The great St. John’s
church was begun in 1280 and finished in 1312,
and is one of the finest Gothic structures in Hol-
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149
and. The fury of the reformation, in the destruc-
tion of everything Catholic, vented itself on the
grand cathedral in the occupation of the city in
1629. The maddened mob, led by the religious
fanatics, either entirely annihilated the elegant
stone statuary and superb paintings of the old
masters, or disfigured them to a degree, in and
around the church, that they became horrid or
ludicrous caricatures. The sight of them filled
us with indignation, more particularly in the face
of the infamous assertion, so shamefully repeated
in our day, that we are indebted to the reforma-
tion for the flourishing condition of science and
art. On the walls in this cathedral the mutilated
paintings, the maimed statues and the destroyed
figures in the windows of stained glass bear a
monumental testimony of the barbarity of the
fanatic reformers, and their base falsehoods in the
perversion of historical facts. The ten years’
work, and the twenty-five thousand guilders
expended have only restored one of the side
entrances to its original beauty, and it is likely
that one hundred thousand guilders will not suf-
fice to replace the whole statuary and windows.
But money cannot replace the paintings of the
great masters. There are six more Catholic
churches in this city, all pretty handsome and
spacious structures, yet not of extraordinary
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merit. We were the guests of the venerable pas-
tor of Orthe, a village about three miles from the
city of Bois le Due, who is an older brother of m3'
Chancellor, Very Rev. H. J. H. Schutjes. I have
mentioned in my former letters that Rev. Schut-
jes, Sr., and Rev. Van Erp, Sr., in company with
their two reverend brothers from America, met
us in Paris, went with us to Lourdes, Rome,
Naples, Loretto, Milan, Turin and Geneva, and
then left us, being in a hurry to go down the
Rhine and home. We had a delightful reunion
in Orthe, being joined by the Vicar General, the
President of the Diocesian Seminary, and several
of the neighboring reverend pastors. The feeble
state of the health of the Most Rev. Archbishop
increased m3’ gratitude for the kind call on the
day after my first visit, and greatly surprised.
Rev. Schutjes, Sr., who seemed more astonished,
than we were. But the delight of the whole
company grew enthusiastic when they saw
the carriage drive up to the pastoral resi-
dence, and the venerable Archbishop alight
to join the dinner party. They all declared it an
event which had never before happened during
the many years of his episcopal administration.
Remaining on Sunday in Orthe, I said mass in
the 'church dedicated to St. Roche, at seven
o’clock in the morning, and was not a little as-
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tonished to find the edifice crowded with devout
people. But my surprise was increased when,
assisting at the high mass, not only the church,
but also the church-yard, was packed with the
faithful. This was explained that the sight of a
Bishop, in this little country church, was among
the extraordinary occurrences, because the extent
of the diocese, the multiplicity' of the episcopal
duties, and now the debility of the octogenarian
prelate did not permit His Grace to visit the
smaller parishes. In the administration of the
Sacrament of the confirmation, four, five, and
more of the smaller country parishes bring the
candidates to one of the larger churches in which
they are all confirmed.
The whole of the country, for miles in every
direction, from Bois le Due, is like one of our
western prairies, — an immense meadow, traversed
by innumerable canals, and protected by
larger and smaller dykes. The land is consider-
ably below the level of the sea, and hence the
facility, in case of war or the like, of inundating
the whole country, at will, by breaking one of
the great dykes. They claim here that the
climate is healthy, though it does not so impress
the traveler; for similar low and wet lands in
America would insure ague enough to shake the
strongest frame to pieces. The sallow com-
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plexion, the blistered lips, the sunken eyes, the
shivering limbs, and the general woe-begone
looks of the people who have condemned them-
selves to the ague swamps in our country, are
never seen in Holland. On the contrary, the
people look hale, strong and full of life and vigor ;
and, judging from the houses in the country, and
all their surroundings, the week-day and Sunday
attire of the peasantry, the fine herds of cattle in
the meadows, the frequency of carriages and
blooded horses, the elegantly cultivated gardens,
etc., the conviction hardly admits of a doubt that
the people in this country enjoy a fair share of
prosperity. All this is strongly confirmed by the
ladies coming from the country into the cities on
Sunday and market-days, in their profuse display
of ornaments of massive gold, especially the
curious, heavy gold band over the forehead.
The rosette (often resembling a bee-hive) with
the elaborate pendants, hang from the ears; the
jeweled crown of gold, instead of the comb, on
the back of the head, for the fastening of the
hair. The whole looks like an extravagant
luxury, yet very modest and rather pleasing.
But it would be a great mistake, inferring from
the last, that the country people in general, and
the ladies in particular, indulge in the extremes
of tashion, whereas absolutely the contrary is the
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truth. They, as much as the northern Germans,
appeared to be obstinate in maintaining the
customs and usages of their great-great-grand-
fathers and mothers. * * * c. h. b.
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XX.
Artwerp, July 18, i8yy.
We are in Belgium, engaged in the sights of
the city of Antwerp. The general appearance
of this city at a distance, before entering it, is
exceedingly picturesque, formed by the many
towers of the churches, the grand old convents,
the magnificent public buildings, and the pro-
fusion of beautiful trees.
The streets being a perfect cobweb, a stranger
has no business to venture out alone if he does
not desire to make sure of losing his way. The
city proper is only two miles long and three-
quarters of a mile wide, it is built on a bend of
the River Scheldt. It is of very ancient date, for
it is said that in the 15th and 16th centuries it
had 200,000 inhabitants, and 2000 vessels
annually entered its ports. By the terms of the
peace of Westphalia, the navigation of the
Scheldt was closed, and caused the commercial
ruin of the city, from which it has not recovered.
The cathedral is one of the largest and most
beautiful specimens of Gothic architecture in
Belgium. It was commenced in the 13th cen-
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tury, and is said to have been over eighty years
in the course of construction. The exterior is
truly remarkable for the exquisite delicacy and
elaborate beauty of workmanship, but the ceiling
in the interior being massive arches, supported
by a double row of columns of great dimensions,
seemed to crowd the church a little, and did
not impress us as remarkably graceful. One
tower remains unfinished, but the other is 366
feet high, and second to none we have seen in
beauty and grandeur, from the foundation to the
summit. It possesses several of the paintings of
the two great masters, Rubens and Van Dyke.
The “Taking down of our Lord from the cross,”
with the copies of which every Catholic is
familiar, charms the beholder at the first glance,
for he seems, at once, convinced that every
image, every feature, every shade on that canvas,
is faultless, and the scene as devotional as it is
grand. The other is “The raising of the cross on
Calvary,” a much bolder conception and more diffi-
cult task, even in the hands of a great master.
But the fact that it fills the beholder, almost
simultaneously, with great admiration and pro-
found sympathy, proves the success of the artist.
As you devoutly scrutinize each figure on the
canvas, the discovery is made that the artist has
painted his own likeness in the robes of a Roman
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soldier, whose countenance vividly expresses the
horror filling his soul, in beholding the Deicide
tragedy, as he had pictured it in his mind for
the reproduction on canvas. They are both
deservedly called masterpieces of Reubens. St.
James cannot be compared with the cathedral,
but withal is a large structure. The interioi I
consider is handsomer than the cathedral itself.
In it the remains of the famous Rubens rest.
He died in 1540, and his tomb behind the high
altar, is covered with a marble slab, with an
appropriate inscription.
St. Andrews church is famed for its truly
magnificent pulpit, representing the mission of
the Holy Ghost in statuary of elegant work-
manship. The idea is the tree of life ramifying
into the sacraments of the redemption, — culmi-
minating into the external triumph. These and
the many other churches in the city are enriched
with paintings by Reubens, Van Dyke, Teniers,
and other masters. We spent a delightful morn-
ing in the art gallery of the most renowned
Belgian and Dutch artists. The collection is not
very extensive, but choice; and for that reason
affords greater pleasure during a short visit. It
seemed to me that I never was more inclined to
stipulate for a painting; than a piece — just far
enough advanced to feel confident that the copy
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would be unquestionably a success. I returned
to it a second and third time, not so much,
indeed, for the charm of the picture, but for
the enjoyment experienced in seeing the artist at
his work. He seemed a man about thirty years
of age, wearing a short but full beard, being
of rather slight frame, being of very intelligent
expression of countenance. Both his arms were
wanting — not even a stump at the shoulders
indicated that he ever had been blessed with
them. You will readily understand why I felt
such a charm in seeing him paint. What I
should have greatly doubted, that I saw with my
own eyes: This man painted with his feet and
used them as dexterously, in holding the palette
and brushes, together with the guiding rod
with the left foot, and laying on the most deli-
cate colorings of paint with the brush in the
grip of the right foot, as any pair of hands
ever employed at a similar work. The toes on
both the feet seemed to be considerably longer
than on the generality of feet, but in every other
respect I did not observe any particular differ-
ence in this man’s feet and limbs. But he used
his toes as skillfully as the musician does his fin-
gers, and his limbs were as flexible as the best
practiced pair of arms. In walking, howevei, it
seemed to me that he did not take as bold and
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firm a step as other people do; but he appeared
rather to trip or skip along like a gay boy of
twelve summers. The copy at which the two
feet were engaged, I would surely have bought
had the subject of the painting permitted it.
In my letter about Amsterdam, I refrained
mentioning our visit to the zoological gardens,
which we greatly admired, for we were assured
that the one in this city by far surpassed it. We
have enjoyed one entire afternoon in the zoo-
logical gardens of Antwerp, have leisurely investi-
gate every department, and were much inter-
ested in the variety of information volunteered
by the gentlemanly manager^ and officers. It is
true that the garden is more artistic in its
general management, and the appearance of the
whole more pleasing; but in my opinion it is a
great mistake to declare it superior to the one in
Amsterdam. In the last named the animal king-
dom, and the specimens of the great families
there presented, are more complete, more noble,
and more perfect than those in Antwerp. There
is from thirty to forty feet of water in the river
at ebb-tide, and hence the largest ocean steamers
can come up to the city; and thousands of emi-
grants to the United States have taken sail at
this port.
From here we purpose to go to Brussels, and
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then to Tournay, hoping to obtain the necessary
letters from Monsignor Dumont the Right Rever-
end Bishop of Tournay to make sure of seeing
Louise Lateau. We are obliged to economize
time considerably in order to be able to realize
our intentions. c. H. B.
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XXL
Ghent , July 22 , 1877.
The city of Antwerp made a very favorable
impression on us, and we had every reason for
regretting we could not prolong our stay. But
the city of Brussels is the grand center of attrac-
tion in this country — it is truly the Paris of Bel-
gium. In many respects it really resembles the
great city of France — the general air put on by
the people, the “extremes” of politeness, even on
occasions laughable enough, the tone of superi-
ority assumed by the gentry; yes, by the dirty-
faced, uncombed, moustached, would-be nobility,
and many other such demonstrations of superior
absurdities. The boulevards and royal parks, the
intermixture of ancient and modern styles of
architecture; the profuse display of everything
calculated to please the multitude in the show-
cases and store windows; whatever may be
acceptable to the devout, or delight the lascivi-
ous is equally frequent in the public exhibit.
The origin of the city is of the early Christian
age, and was called “Isle de St. Gerii,” the vil-
lage being built on an island of the Seine,
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which flows through the center of the present
city of Brussels.
The city proper has only a circumference of
three miles, which is the grand boulevard lined
with a double row of trees, and as clean and ele-
gant a promenade on either side of the carriage
way as the most fastidious can desire. With the
exception of the few new ones, the streets are
very irregular and crooked, the houses handsome
buildings, the great majority of those along the
boulevard are grand structures.
The church of St. Gudule, called the cathedral,
is an imposing and grand Gothic structure, erected
from 1226 to 1663, or in the course of 467 years,
and is built on a considerable elevation. It is
cruciform, built of brick, has two square towers,
each two hundred and twenty-six feet high, but
they seem to be still incomplete. The interior of
this church has the stamp of simple grandeur.
To the inside of the piers of the nave are attached
on brackets fourteen colossal statues, represent-
ing Jesus, Mary, and the twelve apostles, which
are the work of Du Quesnoy. The pulpit is a
remarkable piece of wooden structure by Ver-
bruggen. But the stained glass in the windows
is the most brilliant we have seen. Though the
city is not noted for its religious sentiments, and
everything seen in the public exhibition leads to
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the contrary conviction, yet we were told by
well-informed persons that the Catholics of Brus-
sels are a truly devout and pious people.
We arrived at Tournay to receive a cordial
welcome from Right Reverend Bishop Dumont.
His Lordship was at one time a missionary priest
in the Diocese of Detroit, being on the ioth day
of November, 1857, appointed pastor of the mis-
sion of Redford, Wayne county, and Farmington
and Southfield in Oakland county, and remaining
in said charge to the 18th of November, 1861, —
four years — at which time he was nominated to
the Vice Rectorship of the American college, at
Louvain, Belgium. The plain brick church at
Redford, dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, is, it
is said, built chiefly of the private funds
of this devout missionary, and is, to-day, a
worthy monument of Bishop Dumont’s zeal for
the honor of God in the mission of Redford.
The lapse of sixteen years had not obliterated his
interest in his humble mission in our diocese, for
he inquired all about several persons by name, and
into the minutest particulars about the present
prosperity of that mission. He pressed us so
urgently that we found ourselves obliged to
accept the invitation for dinner, and after that he
gave us a very warm letter of introduction to the
Rev. M. Cure Niels, of Bois d’Haine. The
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cathedral is a fine church edifice, but exteriorly
of no particular beauty, the front or older portion
being built in the pure Roman style, whereas the
sanctuary, or rear half of the church, is in a kind
of Gothic style, from which transition in the style
of architecture the exterior appearance of the
church suffers somewhat, and offends the eye.
The interior, however, makes ample amends, for
it is so handsome and charmingly beautiful that
it compares favorably with the best in the coun-
try. In the antiquity and richness of the vest-
ments and sacred vessels, it surpasses most of
them. The several other churches in this city,
like the majority of them in this country, are
good and substantial structures, serving the great
purpose for which they were erected, but offer
nothing for special admiration.
The arrangements having been completed, we
started on the first train on Friday morning, July
20, 1877, for the village of Bois d’Haine. The
railroad station very much resembles the many of
the kind in the United States, the station house
being a cheap frame structure, the so-called vil-
lage consisting of a pretty large building, serving
as a general store and hotel, and a few scattered
houses along the highway. It has not even a
blacksmith shop. Here, too, the hotel department
(the second floor of the house) was in charge of
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the landlady, who bravely took hold of our heavy
satchels and carried them up stairs as if they were
trifles. The much-desired luxury of private
rooms, and the privilege of disposing of the heavy
coat of dust were not at our disposition. Having
learned that the church of Bois d’Haine is about
one and a half miles from the station, we were
innocent enough to inquire for the hire of a car-
riage to take us there, which seemed to greatly
astonish the good landlady. She soon convinced
us that such a convenience was out of the ques-
tion, but added, with considerable hesitation, that
the only available conveyance would be an ox-
cart, drawn by a pair of cows. We were assured
that the road to the cburch is in very good con-
dition, the distance not great, and it will be but a
pleasant walk, and we started. The young son
of the landlady, being our guide, led the way,
and was quite communicative in telling us all that
he knew about the marvel which we had come
to see. Our appearance on the road seemed to
be sufficiently curious to the people living along
the highway, for young and old rushed to see
the sight. Our guide now pointed out to us
the steeple of the church and the road to be
taken for our destiny, and bows himself away.
We take this way through the fields, but pres-
ently discover it to be a pretty muddy path.
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On an elevation to the right we observed a pleas*
t ant and dry path and at once concluded to follow
it. To our amazement we found out that it has
led us about half a mile out of our way, but fol-
lowing a road leading to the right, we again
struck the abandoned path and are soon in the
immediate proximity of the church. Approach-
ing it from the rear, and having surveyed the
premises, we concluded the handsome new brick
building, to be the residence of the reverend pas-
tor. It is surrounded by a brick wall. Whilst in
search for the door bell, a little boy came along
and we asked him: Where does the pastof live?
That’s the Sisters’ house, said he, and the M.
Cure lives on the other side of the church. The
mistake corrected, we followed our new guide to
the front of the church, and he pointed to a large
old-fashioned gateway, saying: “Go in there and
ring the bell; that’s where M. Cure lives.” We
obeyed, rang the bell, advanced to the house,
which is about a hundred feet from the road,
were met by the smiling servant, invited in, and
assured that the reverend pastor would soon be
on hand. The reverend gentleman proved to be,
at first sight, what he had been represented to
us: i. e., anything but agreeable, and a very
rough specimen of a man.
Right Reverend Bishop Dumont had instructed
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us not to be surprised if we found him disagree-
able, saying, on account of the ever-increasing
importunities, “I beg to assure you that M. Neils
is the right man in the right place to maintain
order.” In order to smooth our path as much
as possible, we at once handed him the letter of
introduction, which he took in an impatient man-
ner, opened it in the act of walking to his secre-
tary in the extreme right angle of his study, rest-
ing his back on the desk until the reading was
finished. A sudden rage of temper seized him;
he walked the floor, shook his head, gesticulated
vehemently and almost shouted: “It is impos-
sible.” His excitement waxed stronger; his impa-
tience and indignation boiled up to such a degree
that our chance of being turned out seemed immi-
nent. In the midst of this scene I quietly took off
my coat, put on my cassock, cincture and biretta,
which alone saved me from his rage, which was
now vented on Revs. S. and A. They asked him,
by way of diversion, whether there was a hotel in
the village, to which he replied, with a burst of
indignation: “Go away; I cannot feed and enter-
tain the crowds that come here.” Having
opened the door, politeness required them to
depart. These intruders having been disposed
of, M. Neils graciously turned to me, saying:
“Monsigneur, you can remain, and I’ll be happy
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in sharing my dinner with you.” As if he
regretted this slight evidence of civility, he
presently turned to his secretary and began to
write. The great majority of the clergy in
Italy, France and Belgium indulge in the abun-
dant use of snuff, but smoking is considered inde-
corous by them. You may, therefore, imagine
the utter amazement of M. Cure when he saw me
light a cigar, and desecrate his study by its per-
fume. At first, turning toward me, his eyes
flashed with displeasure, but, looking at my calm
composure, and the delight it afforded me in send-
ing the smoke through the study, a happy change
came over him, and he enjoyed a hearty laugh.
At this moment I felt the lion was tamed, and it
proved true. He seemed a new man, and contin-
ued polite, agreeable and sociable, conversing
freely on various subjects. The fish dinner was
good, but very plain. I mention this that you may
feel absolutely convinced that it was not the effect
of the dinner, if I was delightfully disappointed in
seeing M. Cure Neils grow pleasantly jovial.
But it was astonishing to see the housekeeper in
such a hurry, removing dish after dish as soon as
we had been helped. For the dinner ceremony
in this country is so wickedly slow, that it
required all the patience I could summon to enjoy
it. The secret of this was revealed, when Revs.
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S. and A. informed me, that, having been turned
out by M. Cure, they went to the convent on the
other side of the church and announced them-
selves ready for dinner. The good sisters having
nothing provided, had recourse to the house-
keeper of M. Cure, who handed the dishes from
our table to the Sisters, and they placed them
before their reverend guests. It is possible that
the Rev. M. Cure Neils discovered the trick
played on him, and that it helped in making him
so jovial. The dinner over, I enjoyed another
smoke, when, all of a sudden, I observed M.
Cure move toward the side door, through which
he had entered on his first appearance after our
arrival. Fortunately, I suspected this flank
movement, and hailed him with the question:
“Monsieur Cure, where are you going?” He
bowed and smiled: “I intended to go to the
house of Louise Lateau.” “Ah! Very well, M.
Cure, PH go along,” was my answer. Rising at
the same moment, I followed him “Nolens
volens.” Motioning to Mr. M. to follow me, we
moved on at a slow pace, and, having passed the
church, I noticed a reverend-looking gentleman,
who had the appearance as if he might be
English. He was delighted by hearing me
accost him in his native tongue, and explained, in
haste, that he had spent a week there, in hopes
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of being admitted to see Louise Lateau, but
failed. Sympathizing with him, I invited him to
follow us, which he did. At this juncture we
met Revs. S. and A., who had been on a keen
look-out for us, and now joined our company.
The distance from the residence of the par-
ish priest to the house of Louise Lateau is more
than a quarter of a mile, and upon our arrival we
found quite a little assembly of people before the
house, and among them five Religions. This was
the signal for another outburst of the vehement
displeasure of M. Cure Neils, because they, too,
had not gone through the prescribed regulations
and been admitted by him. It was nearly 1 140
o’clock p. m. The house of the Lateau family is
a very plain one story brick building about fifteen
to eighteen feet long, and about the same width;
the kitchen being a small, low addition to the left
end of the house. The door of entrance is nearly
in the center of the side of the house, towards the
road, having three small panes of glass in the
transom above the door, and there are two small
windows, one at the right and left of the door,
each of them fortified with four heavy iron bars,
making the whole look very much like a little
jail. Above the little transom window of the
door there is a square window of about two feet,
to light the garret rooms under the steep roof.
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M. Cure Neils did not knock at the door upon
our arrival, but took hold of one of the iron bars
before the window on the right side, and silently
walked to the door which promptly opened for
his admittance. The eldest sister, Rosine, is far
famed as an inflexible character in the capacity of
door keeper, but my attire so filled her with awe
that she offered no resistance to my entry.
Turning round I told my companions to hold on
to the knob of the door until I’d come back.
The interior of the house is divided into three
compartments: i. e., the front room, marked A,
1 — 1 BED
W ,
B ^
DOOR
C
DOOR
nn
Us
FRONT DOOR
being narrow, but the length of the house, except-
ing the stairway for the garret; in this four
women were seated around a table busy at their
needlework, who honored us only with a passing
glance of curiosity. The room marked (C) is a
small bed- room, but the room marked (B) is the
one occupied by Louise Lateau, which we now
entered.
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Louise Lateau, the youngest of three daugh-
ters, was bom on the 30th of January, 1850, and
three months later (April 17, 1850,) her father
died of small-pox. The eldest, Rosine, was
three years of age; the second, Adeline, a little
more than two years old; and the good mother,
Madame Lateau, was left with the three helpless
children, in very poor circumstances, and obliged
to struggle hard for their support, which she did
in a noble manner. But this state of want
allowed the little girl, Louise, only three months
of regular schooling, in which she learned to
read and write some. She improved this
imperfect education so well that she now writes
a good hand. In the year 1866 the cholera
broke out in Bois d’Haine, attacking, first,
three persons in one and the same family. The
father, mother and daughter lying at the point of
death at the same time, so frightened the four
grown sons that they fled. The reverend pastor,
finding the three dying persons abandoned by
their dearest relations and all the neighbors,
called on Louise Lateau, now about 16 years of
age, and begged her to nurse the sick. God
seemed to inspire the young girl with the
necessary confidence, for she joyfully entered on
the charge, and remained with them until they
had closed their eyes to time. This dreadful dis-
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ease had spread an uncontrollable panic in the
community, and it was impossible to cheer them
for the performance of the chief duty of
Christian charity — the burying of the dead.
This obliged Louise to prepare the victims of
her charge for the grave, and she end the M.
Cure alone prepared them for burial. Louise
felt that a merciful Providence had called her
for the performance of the work of heroic
charity, which increased with an appalling
rapidity in the parish. Though not of a very
robust constitution, having been the victim of
severe attacks of sickness, yet she, so far, sur-
passed herself in endurance, spending day and
night in administering to the sick, being almost
ubiquitous in nursing, in cheering, in consoling in
the several stages of the torturing malady. She
manifested, particularly, almost preternatural
courage and strength in being ever ready to dig
the graves, to carry the dead, and assist the M.
Cure Neils, whom a stern necessity compelled to
be the pastor, undertaker and grave-digger for
his own unfortunate parishioners. In this noble
and heroic work of charity, Louise persevered, not
a week, not a month, but as long as the frightful
epidemic lasted, — until the last patient had been
cared for, — until the mortal frame of the last
victim had been gently sunk down into the grave
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and covered by the work of her hands. Of the
survivors in the parish, there was not a single
one who did not owe her the debt of gratitude,
and they vied with one another in manifesting it
to their benefactress. All were loud in her
praise, and all hearts and tongues blessed her.
Thanking God for having favored her with
the opportunity of doing good, for giving her the
strength to persevere in it to the end, and for
preserving her from the contagion of this deadly
disease, Louise quietly joined her sisters in aiding
their mother in the support of the family. We
see her again the simple, innocent and saintly
girl, at the long table, in the front room, a dili-
gent seamstress, bearing the invisible crown of
the heroine of charity. c. H. B.
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XXII.
Ghent , July 24 , i8jj.
You, I am sure, can more readily realize the
heroism of Louise Lateau, than the great major-
ity of people, for there are not many who, like
you, have been eye-witnesses of the frightful
scenes so frequent in the years of cholera in the
United States. You saw the one hundred and
twelve prisoners in the Ohio penitentiary who
died of cholera. You accompanied your rev-
erend brother on his sick calls to the hundreds of
cholera patients in the city of Columbus, Ohio, in
the three counties — Franklin, Delaware and
Marion, Ohio. Y ou saw the many sick of cholera
on the railroads, in the farm-houses, in the cities —
their alleys and lanes. You- walked for three
summers (1849-50-51) in the shadow of death.
The very recollection, the bare thought causes
even now the blood to chill in my veins, for it
brings to view the frightful writhings, the horrid
convulsions, the maddening tortures, the black
agonies of the hundreds in the grip of death.
This letter was addressed to his brother, Mr. John Borgess.
174
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175
I take great pleasure in introducing again in
this letter, the same heroine whose noble works
of charity we have admired in union with the
parishioners of Bois d’Haine. We left her in
company of her sisters at the table in the front
room hard at work with her needle, in the enjoy
ment of perfect health. This blessing, however,
was to be only of short duration, for in the begin-
ning of the year 1867 Louise Lateau was afflicted
with a disease of the throat, which gradually
became so bad that she could only with great
difficulty take the prescribed medicine. From
day to day she became more feeble, and in the
month of September her debility created great
alarm. It was deemed advisable to administer
the last sacrament to her. In this critical
moment her mother and sisters joined, her in a
novena to our Lady of Salette, at the end of
which Louise was cured. But it was evident
that Infinite Mercy designed to school her, in
patient submission and holy resignation, by
repeated visitations of afflictions. For in the
month of March, 1868, she was attacked with a
severe hemorrhage of the lungs, and this disease
so exhausted her strength that she herself con-
cluded she was at the door of death. On the
15th of April, 1868, she summoned all the dear
ones to her bed-side, and took formal leave of
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them, and requested to receive the Viaticum.
After receiving Holy Communion she experi-
enced a desire for her recovery, and began to
pray for it. Her prayer for recovery had scarcely
been completed when every vestige of pain had
left her. On the 17th of the same month she
made her first attempt to rise, but was so weak
that she could not stand on her feet. At this she
smiled and remarked : “ That will be all right, for
on the 2 1 st of April I will walk to the church
and receive Holy Communion during mass.”
Being reduced to a skeleton, and not able to
stand on her feet, this declaration seemed absurd.
But the people of Bois d’Haine, considering her
a saint, freely admitted that God, in his good-
ness, might have promised her the blessing.
Early in the morning of the 21st the parish
church of Bois d’Haine was crowded with
devout people, who waited, in breathless sus-
pense, for the arrival of Louise Lateau. Their
faith was abundantly rewarded by seeing her
walk into the church unsupported by any one;
staying during mass, receiving Holy Com-
munion, and returning in perfect health with her
mother and sisters. She continued perfectly
well and happy during the following two days,
but this blessing and happiness was soon to be
exchanged for dreadful forebodings of returning
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malady. All of a sudden, on the 24th of April,
1868, she experienced those dreadful pains which
had tortured her in the previous years, and she
was much alarmed, discovering that the blood
flowed freely from her left side. Trusting that
it had been but a slight return of the former
disease, and the bleeding having entirely ceased
on the following day (Saturday), as well as
being free from pain, Louise kept silent about
the previous day. But as the suffering returned
on the first of May (the following Friday), the
side bled more profusely, and blood began to
ooze out from the upper part of her feet. She
grew more alarmed, yet held her tongue, wisely
concluding to consult her confessor about it.
Rev. Father Neils is a man of sound judgment,
and, from what I have stated in my letters about
him, you have already drawn your conclusion
that he is not much given to the imaginary, nor
inclined to enthusiasm, much less of a visionary
character. Hence you are not surprised that,
having listened to the statement of Louise, he
told her: “That is nothing; go home and keep
quiet about it.” She obeyed. On the 8th of
May, at 9 a . m ., blood flowed freely from the
left side, both feet and both hands. M. Cure
Neils began to feel uneasy about the unaccount
able phenomenon, and directed his penitent, for
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medical aid, to Dr. Gonne. The doctor,
believing it a natural ailment, exercised his skill
for several weeks, in trying to stop the bleeding.
The medicine was given, the applications made,
— in short, everything tried proved in vain. The
bleeding of the side, of the feet, and of the hands
continued every succeeding Friday. At this
juncture M. Cure Neils considered it his duty to
inform his ecclesiastical superiors of the facts,
and sent an unvarnished statement of the case to
His Lordship, the Bishop of Tournay. Besides
the theological investigation instituted on the 8th
of September, 1868, the medical investigation
continued for one and a half years, every medical
scientist trying his hand at it; there being, fre-
quently, fifteen doctors at work on Fridays. In
1870 over one hundred doctors, representing
every nationality, had tried and exhausted their
strength in curing Louise Lateau, but failed
signally. The bleeding of the wounds was the
very same on each succeeding Friday. It con-
tinues to the present day, as we witnessed on
Friday, the 20th day of July, 1877. The lan-
guage of St. Paul to the Galatians, (chapter 6,
verse 17) seems to apply to her: “From hence-
forth let no man be troublesome to me, for I bear
the marks of our Lord Jesus Christ in my
body.” Dr. Lefevre, Professor of the Catholic
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179
University at Louvain, being a solid and practi-
cal Catholic, and, in the medical profession, an
acknowledged authority, published a full report
of his observations during his prolonged visits at
Bois d’Haine, and thus describes Louise Lateau:
“She is of full and round figure; of a fresh,
slightly-colored complexion, having blonde hair
and blue, clear, bright eyes.” And, I beg to add,
of medium female figure, a very ordinary mold
of features, and by no means a handsome girl.
Permit me here to state that having read some
reports about her, and heard much more from
those who had seen her, I did not feel justified to
deny nor even to question such honorable testi-
mony. But I had suspended my own judgment
on the subject, firmly determined to see Louise
Lateau, make my observations, and form my
own opinion according to what I had seen and
been convinced of. I came, therefore, to Bois
d’Haine, not, indeed, a skeptic nor a believer, but
as one willing to be convinced by ocular evi-
dences. As I mentioned before, M. Cure and I
entered the room marked (B) in the diagram,
and I stood at the foot of the bed on which
Louise Lateau was lying. The sight presented
considerably astonished me, who, during the last
twenty-eight years, had grown quite familiar
with the appearance of the sick and dying. Her
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countenance had a livid hue, her eyes were par-
tially closed with the eye-balls turned upward*
her mouth was open, her chest heaved convul-
sively, her hands moved slightly to and fro, her
head tossed from time to time, in short, all the
signs of a death agony crowded into view, and
under ordinary circumstances I should have
urged M. Cure quickly to administer the last
sacraments, and commence reciting the prayers
for the dying. At this moment the M. Cure
informed me that this is called the “Agony,”
which begins at midnight of Thursday and con-,
tinues to the same hour of Friday night, and that
during the whole of that time she is unconscious
of anything around her, except when she is
called to consciousness. As a proof of the last
statement, he invited me to call her to conscious-
ness, which I declined on account of our loud and
undisguised conversation in her presence. But
he said in a low tone of voice: “ Louise,” where-
upon she entirely opened her eyes, turned her
head and looked at me. Blessing her, I pre-
sented my ring; she kissed it and expressed her
gratitude by a reverential smile. I had come to
see and judge for myself and therefore kindly
requested M. Cure to leave the room. He
promptly obeyed, but, having stepped over the
threshold, he stood there leaning his back against
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181
the door-frame with his note book, and pencil in
hand. I first seated myself on the only chair in
the room, which I had placed at the right side,
near the head of the bed. Louise’s two hands
rested on several thicknesses of folded linen,
spread over the bed-cover, and were covered
with a folded linen cloth. This I removed.
The hands were both heavily covered with
blood; in some places it had congealed, and
looked very dark, but in the center between
the fore and little fingers, on the upper part of
the hand, the blood was quite fresh and flowed
freely. Not knowing at the time, what I learned
afterwards, that the wiping of the hands causes
her intense pain, I proceeded to wipe off the
hands for a more perfect inspection of the wound
on each hand. The wound or stigma on the
right hand seemed more than one inch in length,
about half an inch at its greatest width, and is of
oval shape; turning the hand I saw a wound of
the same form in the palm of the hand, and
opposite the wound on the back of the same.
The blood seemed to raise in bubbles forming in
rapid succession, flowing in a spread stream
down to the wrist. Examining the wound itself
I was well convinced that the skin of the hand
was not broken, nor in any way injured, and
there was no sign of a wound made by any
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material instrument, sharp or dull. And, withal,
the blood oozing out of the wound appeared a
reality, and complete in form. It being impossi-
ble to see the wounds of the feet and side, I
ventured to unhook the dress of my patient at
the neck to see the shoulder. It proved a sad
sight ! It had the appearance of being
cruelly bruised, and the flesh crushed to a jelly.
On the top of the shoulder the bruise seemed
about three to four inches wide, but, though it
looked raw and fresh, yet it did not bleed at the
time. It is on the right shoulder. The hair had
been cut short and combed over the forehead,
almost down to the eyebrows. I brushed it
back with my hands, to see the marks of the
Crown of Thoms. I observed spots of dark
yellow skin, at irregular intervals, and about a
dozen in number. I could discern them pretty
easily, without a magnifying glass (using my
spectacles, of course), at the top of the forehead
and the base of the hair of the head. These
wounds were dry; that is, did not bleed in the
least when I saw them. I leaned back on the
chair leisurely, to reflect on the revelation made
when a change, like an electrical shock, came
over Louise; her head fell back on the low
pillow; her eyes opened to the utmost, raised
upward, but slightly turned to the right; her
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countenance had assumed a happy and bright
look, and, as far as I could see, she ceased to
breathe, became absolutely motionless, and
seemed dead. It was the work of a moment,
and took me so much by surprise that I had no
time to reflect, and, in consequence, I felt com-
pletely paralyzed. M. Cure, no doubt observing
the shock it had given me, kindly stepped for-
ward. “Monsigneur, the ecstacy has begun.”
Moving off toward the front door, to admit the
strangers, I followed him, in haste, and found
that the English Benedictine Fathers, Revs. S.
and A. and Mr. M. held possession of the door,
and were the first to enter the house. M. Cure
Neils admits twenty persons, who have observed
the established rules and being “ticketed” every
Friday during the ecstacy, but my four com-
panions, and the five religious who pushed in,
added ten persons to the usual number, and the
room was much crowded.
I mentioned before that, ordinarily, Louise
does not impress a person as a handsome girl,
yet the exclamation now echoes from every cor-
ner of the room: “Isn’t she beautiful?” “How
lovely she looks!” “That’s an angelic counte-
nance!” And it is so true that no painter ever
succeeded in representing an angelic face and
heavenly expression, which, in any way, com-
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pares with the supernatural beauty reflected in
this countenance. It gives us an idea of the
beauty and splendor of a glorified body of the
new creation on the day of resurrection. In
America the newspaper reporters are conceded
to be surpassed in impudence only by a first-
class commercial agent. On the continent,
however, the newspaper men are, generally, not
so obtrusive, and, as a class, much of the gentle-
man. But in Bois d’Haine we had the mis-
fortune of meeting with a sad exception, for this
man, literally, played the part of a clown or
buffoon. He skipped about the room, talked at
the top of his squealing voice, explaining, in
minutest detail, what Louise would do in this,
the second and every other instant, making the
whole, marvelously, look like a preconcerted
ceremony, or show. He finally reached the end
of his roll, and order was restored. The first of
our party to step forward and bless her was Rev.
A., and, in response, Louise smiled. This
so-called “Smile” is not really a smile, in the
natural order, but a peculiar lighting up of her
countenance, her lips opening enough to see the
, teeth. Rev. S., as you know, wears a slight
beard on his chin, and on this day, not having
shaved, and wearing his duster (which ought to
have been white), he had anything but a clerical
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185
appearance. He stepped forward to the foot of
the bed and blessed her. As she responded, by
the peculiar smile, a prolonged “Oh!” was heard
all over the room, in the supposition that Rev. S.
was what he appeared — a dutch farmer. M.
Cure and the newspaper man simultaneously
exclaimed: “Monsigneur, is that gentleman a
priest?” and having answered in the affirmative,
a joyous “Oh!” re-echoed through the room.
Mr. M., as you remember, was mistaken for a
priest In Chicago; and, several times on our
European trip, he was believed to be my
reverend companion. He advanced to bless her
and did it in a very patriarchal manner, forming
a large cross in a very solejnn way, but Louise
did not smile. This so forcibly struck the old
gentleman, that he turned away and wept
bitterly. The Benedictine Father, from Eng-
land, went around, stood behind the headboard
of the bed, and, from there, blessed Louise,
which she again acknowledged by the beautiful
“ Smile.” All these experiments were made in
solemn silence, all eyes being fixed on the
Ecstatic, and the hearts throbbing in admiration
of the marvels witnessed. Monsigneur Dumond,
speaking of the Ecstatic, said: “I do not know,
and wished not to be informed, whether your
pectoral cross has a ‘Relic of the Holy Cross’
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inclosed in it. But if it has that relic in it, I will
now state how Louise Lateau will act when you
present it to her: She will rise in her bed in a
sitting posture, and hold the cross in her folded
hands; her countenance will beam with joy, and
she will thus remain till you take it away. And,
Monsigneur, I do hereby give you all the author-
ity which I have in her regard.” Of course, I
was anxious to verify this statement, made one
day before our arrival at Bois d’Haine. I took off
my pectoral cross and held it by the chain over
the breast of the Ecstatic. Like a flash she
arose, bent over in a complete semi-circle, hold-
ing my cross in her tightly-clasped hands, her
eyes raised to Heaven, and her countenance
beaming with joy, as if lit up by a Divine ray. I
again took hold of the chain, without intending
to take the cross away from her, and began to
pull upwards, when I discovered, to my greatest
amazement, that I could lift the Ecstatic at will,
as if she weighed but a pound. But my amaze-
ment increased to awe, when, in obedience to my
thought, the Ecstatic promptly relaxed her hold
of my cross and dropped, as if dead, on the bed.
She had firmly clasped the cross with both hands
all bloody — the precious streams flowing down
the wrists for several minutes. But my cross
had not a stain of blood on it — yes, it looked as
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187
if it had just been polished. A new revelation
had been made, and for the confirmation of
it, I commanded her, in thought, to conscious-
ness. At once she obeyed, turned her head
towards me, and looked inquiringly at me.
In thought again I said, “ That is enough,” and
her head that moment dropped back, her eyes
were fixed, and, as before, she ceased to breathe,
at least as far as I could notice. It is said that
Louise understands and speaks only the French
language, but I am convinced, by the experiment
made by me, that in her ecstacy she understands
equally well English, German and Latin.
Behold the wonderful change in her counte-
nance! Excruciating pain is mirrored! a flood
agony depicted ! her face bears the livid hue of
death! her frame grows cold! she of a sudden
extends both arms, crosses the right foot over
the left, and her head sinks so that her chin rests
on her chest. Almost involuntarily all present
fall on their knees, for prayer, but are promptly
disturbed by M. Cure insisting that the room
must be cleared and the visitors depart. For
this scene lasts only about ten minutes,
and then Louise returns to consciousness. M.
Cure Neils is under strict orders from his
ecclesiastical superiors that Louise Lateau
may not see, and, as far as possible, not know of
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•'AS THE BISHOP SA IV IT 1 ”
the presence of the many visitors during her
agony and ecstacy on Fridays. On the 20th of
July, 1877, the ecstacy commenced at one o’clock
and fifty minutes, and we left the room at two
o’clock and forty-five minutes in the afternoon.
c. H. B.
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XXIII.
Bruges, July 26, 1877.
Under ordinary circumstances I would feel
obliged to apologize for the length of my last
letter, but dealing entirely in the extraordinary,
and flattering myself that you were anxious to
have the report of all my observations, I hope
that it received a cordial welcome. We spent
several days, one of them a Sunday, in the
ancient Catholic city of Ghent, which dates its
origin to the 7th century, but was not of great
importance until the 12th century. At this time
history mentions it as a well fortified town, and
towards the end of the 13th century Charles the
Fifth said: “I will put Paris in my glove,” a dec-
laration even till to-day kindly remembered by its
inhabitants. Being pleasantly lodged in the hotel
“ Golden Lion,” I am reminded of a little incident
which Mr. M. did not relish. In Tournay we
enjoyed the luxury of the hotel called the “ Golden
Monkey.” Unfortunately, he became conscious
of this fact by seeing the picture of a handsome
monkey painted on the sign-board of the hotel.
He shook his head saying: “It is tough to have
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it said in St. Louis that ‘we were caged with the
monkey! ’ ”
Our hotel of the “ Golden Lion” is in the imme-
diate vicinity of St. Martin’s church, which is a
beautiful edifice and very large. We arrived in
the city at a late hour on Saturday evening and
could not have the honor of an introduction to
the reverend pastors of St. Martin’s. At seven
o’clock the next morning I presented myself in
the sacristy and met a Reverend Assistant, "who
politely informed me that he had to see my
papers, which I promptly handed him. He was
evidently not familiar with a Papal Bull, for he
took time and pains to study it. But having
taken “it all in” he seemed to feel dreadfully
embarrassed, and endeavored hard to ' make
amends for his mistake by attention and kindness.
This was the second time my papers were
demanded in Europe.
The cathedral of Ghent is also a vast struc-
ture, and, though in its exterior it is somewhat
heavy and by no means graceful looking, yet
its interior is finely proportioned and richly dec-
orated. It has a beautiful crypt, a handsome,
carved pulpit, and many monuments and grand
paintings. The tower is 272 feet high. The
church of St. Nicholas is the oldest in the city,
grand in style, which, in my opinion, is
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greatly injured by the modern portico. In the
church of St. Michael we had the pleasure of see-
ing the celebrated painting of the “ Crucifixion ”
by Van Dyke. We paid our respects to His
Lordship the Bishop of Ghent, and found him an
old, venerable-looking gentleman, rather austere
of expression, very reserved and dignified in his
manner and of medium stature. He received us
very kindly, indulged in a good many questions
about America; in particular about Belgian
priests in the United States.
We availed ourselves of the railroad facilities,
the trains running as regularly on Sundays as
week days, and made an excursion to Waerschoot,
a country parish, and the village in which the
V. Rev. E. Joos’ brother resides. He is a Notary
Public, an important and often very lucrative
office in this country. Our visit was a surprise,
not only to the Notary, but all the village, whose
curiosity seemed aroused to the highest degree.
Having spent a few pleasant hours there, we
returned to Ghent. Our next visit in this
city was to the “Beguinage,” an institution, I
believe, peculiar to Belgium, for we found one or
two of them in all the larger cities. Those in this
city, however, are the most extensive in the coun-
try. W e went to the one nearest our hotel, which
is not the largest, but consists of three hundred
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houses, besides the convent for the Sisters in
charge of the institution. The whole is an exten-
sive square piece of ground, surrounded by a
high brick wall, with a large gateway in the
center of the front side of the square. The
houses are built in a row along the walls, then a
street, and on the opposite side of the street the
second row of houses is built ; this is tapped by
the intersecting streets, built up with houses to
the right and left. They terminate at the cen-
tral park — the grounds for general recreation.
The pretty large church for the inmates of the
institution stands at the right, and ( the convent of
the Sisters in charge at the head of this park.
Gateway.
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This, of course, is a very imperfect diagram of
the grounds, but it will serve to give you a
remote idea of the arrangements of the institu-
tion. It is in truth a small city of Religions
within the great city, having its spacious and
lesser streets, and. a beautiful central park. The
houses of brick are all two stories high, built in
the same style and of the same dimensions, and
look plain and neat.
Any Catholic female who is single or a widow,,
young or old, can enter and live in this institu-
tion upon these simple conditions:
ist. She must have a sufficient competency
for her own support, or be willing to earn it by
her industry.
2d. She, must be willing to submit to the
strict observance of the discipline of the institu-
tion.
Everyone of the inmates is perfectly free, at
pleasure, to leave the institution, but her depart-
ure is for good, she being not allowed to return.
They are not bound by any vows; hence, if an
opportunity offers to settle in the world, or if
anyone feels dissatisfied with this religious retire-
ment, they leave without the slightest reproach.
The inmates wear a uniform, or a kind of relig-
ious habit, which somewhat resembles that of the
novices in the regular convents. There are
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Sister servants of the institution, who go into the
city for the marketing and general supply of pro-
visions. They, too, wear a uniform dress, which
is much like that worn by the portresses of the
convent of the “Good Shepherd.” Each house
being provided with a small kitchen, the inmates
cook their own meals and enjoy the little or
plenty, according to their own means. The first
impression, no doubt, is that the institution is a
“Home” for the disappointed, and old maids.
But my inquiry led to the conviction that this
impression is a mistake, for in this country it is
regarded as a kind of religious institution and held
in great esteem. This was confirmed during our
sojourn in this city (Bruges), when the Rt. Rev.
Bishop went to the Beguinage, for the reception
of a wealthy young lady from that city and after
the ceremony presided at the grand feast pre-
pared for the inmates by her parents.
We all know that customs of a national type
are found in all the older countries, and are
things upon which a stranger has no right to sit
in judgment, and, if he ventures even an opinion,
he is not likely to manifest great wisdom. I beg
to simply state the facts which I observed. In
France the people are seen frequently working in
the fields on Sundays and Holy days, and the
retail business houses in the cities are open in the
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forenoon on those days, as well as during the
week. In Italy it is seldom that the people are
seen working in the fields on Sundays, but in the
cities they do the same as in France. In Switz-
erland nobody works in the fields on Sunday, but
the stores are open. In Germany I saw masons
and carpenters at work on a new house on Sun-
day, the saloons open all day, but the retail
stores closed at io o’clock in the morning, and
occasionally I saw persons at work in the fields
on Sunday. In Holland all the stores are closed
on Sunday as soon as the first bells for divine
service are rung, and the same rule prevails in
Belgium, except in Ghent. Here all the stores,
shops and saloons are in full blast from the rising
to the setting of the sun. After sun-down only
the saloons are kept open; the people, young and
old, turn out and crowd the frequent public
squares in the city, and the promenades are
crowded with the gay.
The city of Bruges is an important port of
entry. It occupies a circumference of four miles.
To-day it has only about one-fourth the number
of inhabitants which it had in its most prosperous
days. It became a fortified city early in the 9th
century, when it graced the brow of the North
sea, but the drainage of the sea for several
miles has left it high and dry, an inland town. ' I
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sent my letter of introduction to Monsigneur
Bethune, who responded very promptly and vol-
unteered himself as our guide. I have already
adverted to the absence of His Lordship the
Bishop at the reception of the young and wealthy
lady in the Beguinage, but meeting him on the
following day,, we were charmed with his
cordiality and the great kindness extended. He
converses very freely in English. The cathedral
has lately been refrescoed and looks quite fresh
and new in the interior, the nave being 108 feet
high and the aisles being in good proportion in
height and width, you can form some idea of the
dimensions of the whole. The church of Notre
Dame is but a short distance from the cathedral,
is an imposing structure and probably the most
artistic church edifice in the city. Its tower
and spire is 450 feet high, and serves as a land-
mark for the mariners. It happened that our
visit to this church was during the benediction of
the Blessed Sacrament. The music was of the
Palestrini style, the basso and tenor were good,
the alto extraordinary, but the soprano was a
marvel of perfection — quite as good, full and
clear as the one we heard in St. Peter’s in Rome.
There were only male voices in the choir.
St. James’ church is the next door to our hotel;
the reverend pastor being ill, the acting pastor
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proved very kind to us. The exterior is almost
hid from view, but the interior is handsome, to
which the magnificent decorations for the patron
feast, no doubt, greatly added. They have five
bells in the belfry of the heavy-looking tower;
three of them were rung for an hour on the eve,
and for another hour early in the morning of the
feast. At this church they had a first-class funeral
during our stay in the city, and all the bells were
rung for an hour. The Rt. Rev. Bishop having
given us the requisite permission in writing, Mgr.
Bethune was indefatigable in obtaining the keys,
knowing that one of the persons would leave
the city that very evening. The “Relic of
the Precious Blood ” is‘kept in a beautiful chapel
expressly built for it, and in a vaulted shrine
locked by five keys in the hands of five persons,
one of whom is a priest. The “ Precious Blood ”
itself is in a glass tube of about eight inches long
and one inch in diameter, and this tube is
enclosed in a second glass tube, each of the two
ends being surmounted by a gold crown, studded
with diamonds and other precious stones, and
finally the glass tubes rest in a grand shrine of
pure gold, elaborately adorned with precious
stones. The depth of the precious blood in the
vial seems to be about one inch; it looks fresh in
color, and not at all dark as congealed blood.
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We were informed that this “Blood” had only
twice liquified since the year 1308.
Before taking leave of this city, in which we
have spent several of the pleasant days of our
continental trip, I beg to introduce you to the
famous “Halles” a grand old structure, square
in form and surmounted by a tower 354 feet
high. It was used for general marketing, cen-
trally located, and has many attractions for the
citizens, as well as strangers. Of these, the
numerous and sweet-toned set of chimes in the
tower are not in the least. They are, perhaps,
unsurpassed in Belgium, and not often equaled on
the continent. * * * c. h. b.
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XXIV.
London, July 29, 1877.
We are a second time in the great city of the
world. Our first could not really be called a
visit for we made the least possible delay, our
chief aim being the Eternal city.
But we are here to see all we can in the
allotted time. I am far from believing such a
course a wise one, for we have been thoroughly
convinced by the cruel fatigue endured, that the
plan of seeing and enjoying so much in such a
short space of time is a mad folly. The other
day a Rev. Mr. Raynard, of St. George’s in
Southwark, related that a Frenchman in this city
glorying in the grandeur of Paris, compared to
London, was as much surprised as shocked at
the cruel retort: “O, yes; we all cheerfully
admit that Paris is a very respectable forebor-
ough of London!” And if our impression does
not greatly deceive us, the retort would not seem
such an unpardonable exaggeration. We have
hurried along in the cabs, passed over much
ground, taken a general survey, seen a great deal
— but the great task has scarcely been begun.
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and we do not flatter ourselves at being able to
do it with any satisfaction. If we could spend
here two or three months, we might feel
acquainted with the great city. It would border
on absurdity if I were to attempt penning a
description of the many points of note and admi* »
ration in this letter, instead of writing a book on
this subject. Therefore, I beg only to mention
that we visited St. James’ and Hyde Park, the
Buckingham Palace, the House of Parliament
and Westminster Abbey, the British Museum,
the Art Galleries, etc., etc. We walked through
many of the most prominent streets for the better
inspection and more perfect enjoyment of the
magnificence displayed in them; we drove in
cabs through several of the grand avenues lead-
ing into the remoter portions of the city, and
from the first to the last our impression was con-
firmed that “London is the great city of the
world.” St. Paul’s cathedral is considered the.
grandest structure in the city. It is built on the
site of the Catholic cathedral — the summit of
Ludgate hill — which was destroyed in the great
fire of 1 666. It is 510 feet long and 250 feet
wide in the transcept, but 180 in the main body,
and cost £747,954 sterling, gathered by taxes.
The exterior is handsome and imposing, but the
interior is devoid of ornaments and impresses the
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visitor with sad disappointment. Mr. M. re-
marked: “I am disappointed; the church looks
as cold as Protestantism! ” But in my opinion
St. Paul’s cathedral does not even remotely com-
pare with the Westminster Abbey *in beauty and
grace of style, and in the imposing grandeur of
the whole. It dates to the early part of the 7th
century, but the greater portion of the present
structure was completed in 1245. It is built in
the form of a cross, 5 1 1 feet long, 203 feet in the
transcept, and the tower 225 feet high. The
style of architecture is the pure Gothic, with the
exception of the repairs made after the revolu-
tion, designed by Wren, the architect of St.
Paul’s, which are a mixture of Grecian and
Gothic. St. George’s cathedral in Southwark is
the largest and the most beautiful of the Catholic
churches in this city, and in many respects resem-
bles the new cathedral in the city of Chicago,
and costing, we are told, about £30,000 sterling,
or a little less than- the one in Chicago. All the
rest of the Catholic churches are plain structures,
no doubt, built for the immediate needs of the
people, in keeping with the limited means at the
disposal of Catholicity, but emerging from the
tombs of the so-called reformation. We stopped
at the “Queen’s hotel,” opposite the post office,
almost under the shadow of St. Paul’s cathedral,
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and in the very heart of the city, and inquiring
for the nearest Roman Catholic church, the chief
clerk replied that he did not know, but would
ascertain it from some of the waiters. He
returned to the office stating that no person in
the hotel could give us the required information.
Of course, starting out ourselves, we found
the Pro-cathedral of His Eminence Cardinal
Manning, only half a dozen squares from the
hotel. I mention this fact because, from a busi-
ness point of view, it would be to the interest of
the persons giving the desired information, and
as far as I could judge, none of the parties
seemed to be over-stocked with religion to make
them bigoted. Hence, I felt inclined to ascribe
the ignorance to their supine indifference in relig-
ious matters. This was strongly confirmed on
the following Sunday. From the thousands of
the lower classes who spend the Sunday in sitting
and lying on the door-steps and lounging about
the streets, frequenting the saloons, and crowd-
ing the docks, the utter religious indifference is
but too apparent. It is true that at all the ser-
vices the Catholic churches were well filled, but
not as crowded as the population would seem to
demand. In like manner the general brilliant
aspect of the city is intermingled with the sad,
sobriety having its frequent exhibits of intemper-
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ance, prosperity and luxury being humiliated by
the extreme poverty and wretchedness which
follows in its wake, fashion and gentility being
shamed by the utter destitution and raggedness
of the many.
The Regent’s park, embracing 403 acres of
ground, and being artistically laid out and kept
in perfect order, furnishes a delightful drive of
two miles on the first circular road, and toward
the north leads to the several avenues of the
Zoological gardens, but they are almost too exten-
sive to be enjoyed by those who do not feel at
liberty to return several days. For that reason I
was better pleased with the Surrey Zoological
gardens, only fifteen acres in dimensions, with a
lake of three acres for the enjoyment and excel-
lent display of the greatest variety of water fowl.
W e had the pleasure of listening to a discourse
delivered by His Eminence Cardinal Manning in
St. Ann’s church, either by special invitation on
the part of the pastor, or by the force of neces-
sity; for the subject so ably advocated by the
Cardinal was, “The Necessity of a Catholic
Parochial school.” The attire and the attend-
ance of His Eminence was strictly rubrical; his
personal appearance verified the description fre-
quently given of him; his style of elocution is
very English in enunciation, modulation and ges-
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ticulation. His voice is full and strong, but he
indulges very little modulation and scarcely any
gesture, save that of the occasional raising of the
right arm and the pointing of the index finger.
But the tall, emaciated figure of His Eminence,
the earnestness of his countenance, the solemnity
surrounding him, and the solidity of his argu-
ments have a telling effect on his audience, be
they Catholics or Protestants, of the humbler or
the highest ranks of society.
Although rather cold and distant in his man-
ners and without the rigid adherence to English
usages, yet on account of his nobility of charac-
ter, sanctity of life and acknowledged erudition,
he is universally respected, revered by his own,
and honored by the nobles of the land.
Meeting His Eminence, a person almost invol-
untarily is reminded of the answer given on a hot
July morning by Rev. Fr. Marshall. Being
asked the usual question:
“How are you?”
“Very cold; very cold,” said he, “for I’ve just
shaken hands with the Cardinal ! ”
I know that this letter will greatly disappoint
you, for which I tried to prepare you in the
beginning, but a moment’s reflection will con-
vince you that it is unavoidable. In this convic-
tion, I am obliged to say, adieu! c. H. B.
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XXV.
Liverpool , Aug. j, 1877.
The history of this city does not descend into
antiquity, it being but an insignificant village of
fishermen in the latter part of the 16th century.
At present it is a city very much like Chicago in
size (495,000 inhabitants), in enterprise and gen-
eral activity. The public buildings are not of
extraordinary architectural beauty. St. George’s
hall is a sumptuous building in the Corinthian
style, 420 feet in extreme length, the colonnade
in the center 200 feet. Being situated in a
large open space, it is exposed to view from each
of the four sides. It is a handsome and imposing
structure.
Our hotel is directly opposite St. George’s hall
and we are privileged to enjoy its sight at
pleasure from our windows. The Revenue build-
ings, the Town Hall and the Exchange buildings
are of considerable note. The latter elicited
considerable admiration from Mr. M., finding it
in every respect far superior to the St. Louis
Exchange, which he firmly believed unsurpassed
in any city of its size. We called on His
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Lordship Mgr. O’Reilley, who is the third
Bishop of Liverpool, but we regretted finding
him absent from home. We formed, however, a
very pleasant acquaintance with this young and
energetic prelate in Belfast, at the dedication of
the new cathedral.
The Pro-cathedral of St. Nicholas on Copperas
Hill, established in 1812, is a very plain, modest
structure. In this particular all the other
churches share, none of them laying claim to
artistic beauty.
We were informed that about half of the popu-
lation of this city is Catholic, which seemed
strongly confirmed by the frequent signs of
respect and reverence shown by the people in the
center as well as in the remotest streets visited
by us.
There are but twelve ordinary-sized churches,
seating from five to eight hundred persons, and
eight good sized chapels, all of them seating
about twelve thousand, and at the three different
masses in all the churches about forty thousand
people. From this it appears evident that there
is not half room enough in the twenty church
edifices to accommodate the people. We were
delighted, observing that the attendance at mass
on week days was much larger in this city than
in the many larger cities visited, even in
England.
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As a commercial city, you are, no doubt, more
familiar with its immense trade than I could pre-
sume to describe it. But the figures of receipts
for dock dues being over two millions, and for
custom dues being from fifteen to twenty millions
of dollars, give some idea of its immense trade
and justify me, in a measure, calling Liverpool
the young rival of old London.
The most remarkable feature of this great sea-
port is the number and magnificence of the
“Docks.” All of them are along the bank of
the river Mersey. There are thirty of them,
divided into wet, dry and graving docks. The
wet docks are principally for ships of great bur-
den, employed in foreign trade; the dry docks, so
• called, are appropriated to coasting vessels;
the graving docks are adapted to the repairing
of vessels, and so arranged that the water can be
admitted or excluded at pleasure. The extreme
length on the bank of the river of the docks is
five miles. The solidity, extent and beauty of
these docks, and the excellence of the workman-
ship of the wall of stone, it seems to me, is
second to none of the kind in the world.
The Zoological and Botanical gardens of Liv-
erpool are very creditable — even good as far as
they go — but only in their infancy, compared
with those of Amsterdam, Antwerp, London, etc.
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The same must be said of the Public Library and
Derby Museum.
The city is laid out in the European cobweb
fashion, frightfully irregular, excepting some of
the wider business streets, which frequently
run pretty straight for a long distance.
Among the Catholic educational institutions,
the recently established Normal school in charge
of the Sisters of Notre Dame is the most impor-
tant. The Sisters set apart for the course of
instruction are ladies of a high order of mental
culture, accompanied by years of experience in
training the youth. The school is well attended
and in every way promises success.
There are a great many charitable institutions
in charge of the Sisters of Charity, of Mercy and .
the Good Shepherd. The several religious com-
munities have the charge of ninety-two schools
for boys and girls in the Diocese of Liverpool.
But as this would suppose that over one thousand
pupils attend each of the existing schools, it
becomes plain that over one-half the children can
not attend the Catholic schools, not even in the
city itself.
The Northwestern hotel of this city, in which
we stop, is among the very best hotels in England
and on the continent, indulging in the luxury of
modern improvements, such as we, in America,
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consider indispensable in any ordinary good
hotel. The elevator, for instance, found in the
Northwestern is introduced in but a very few
hotels in Europe.
From here we intend to go by rail to Holy
Head, from there by steamer to Kingston, and
from there by rail to Dublin. The weather is
charming, our health good, and we will avail
ourselves of the first opportunity to send a report
from Ireland. It is amusing to see the reluctance
of Mr. M. in leaving this city, where he has
formed the acquaintance of some very kind
friends, and his prejudices are not in favor of Ire-
land. c. H. B.
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XXVI.
Dublin , Aug. 26, 1877.
At last we are in the metropolitan city of Ire-
land. Although the almost incessant rain has
not allowed us to take an extensive view of
things, yet we have spent some hours in the
morning and evenings going about on foot
observing the houses, the stores and shops, but
particularly the people on the streets of the dif-
erent quarters of the city. I am truly sorry that
such a state of ragged poverty surrounds us, but
street beggary is comparatively seldom. In
France, Italy, Germany and Switzerland intem-
perance on the streets is among the rare events;
in Holland, Belgium and England it is met with
from time to time, but here it is an exception if
you do not meet it within every scpiare. You
may apologize and account for the sad state of
poverty which exists, for the general ragged
appearance of the young and old, which fills you
with sympathy and pity; but one blushes in
attempting to “whitewash” the miserable state of
drunkenness of young and old men, and even
young and old women on the public streets.
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But the fact becomes more humiliating, when it
cannot be denied that the horrid public exhibit is
more common with old and young women. All
that meets the eye would seem to conspire in the
general gloom, the absence of freshness in the
exterior appearance of the stores and dwellings,
the filthy streets and the universal lack of tidi-
ness in appearance of the people.
A letter awaiting our arrival at the “European
Hotel ” had given us a favorable introduction
which was strongly endorsed by Mr. Michael
O’Neil, formerly my sexton at the cathedral in
Cincinnati. He had been at the hotel some days,
and no doubt had favored Mrs. Maloney, the
landlady, with my history, as far as he was in
possession of it. At any rate, upon our arrival
the landlady extended as cordial a welcome as if
we had been numbered among her best friends,
and we were entitled to the very best accommo-
dations in the house.
My first visit was to His Eminence Cardinal
Cullen, who resides in one of a block of houses.
The house does • not deserve the name of the
“Palace,” for it is neither large nor handsome,
such as an American dry goods clerk would
not feel proud of. His Eminence had been quite
sick and his physician had ordered him to retire
into the country for the enjoyment of the neces-
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sary quiet, and, having left my card, I drove
back to the hotel.
The church of St. Dominic and the Dominican
convent being quite convenient, Mr. Michael
O’Neil kindly made the necessary arrangements
for me to say mass in that church during our
stay in this city. This enabled me to listen to
the eloquent sermon of the renowned Father Tom
Burke, O. P., on the Patron feast — St. Domi-
nic’s day, the 4th inst. Although it was Satur-
day, yet the church was crowded to its utmost
capacity at the 10 o’clock high mass. The pane-
gyric of the saint by Father Burke was a mas
terpiece of oratorical composition, the delivery
grand, and the effect on the people was mani-
fested by the abundant streams of tears flowing
from the eyes of the majority of his audience. I
knew that the orator was very unwell, that he
arose from his bed and went to the pulpit; but
he had so nerved himself that whilst he spoke no
person could have suspected him a sick man.
The next morning, inquiring about him, I was
told that Father Burke, returning from the pul-
pit to the convent, immediately went to bed and
remained there still.*
Our first drive out of the city was to the ceme-
tery, which, they claim, is among the handsomest
in the world; and, in truth, it is beautiful in the
* This was Father Burke’s last illness.
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arrangements of the walks, in its many monu
ments and the many tomb chapels. The monu-
ment erected in memory of Daniel O’Connell is
165 feet high, very graceful and a fine piece of
workmanship. In the tomb chapel under the
monument the casket containing his remains, the
caskets of his two sons and of the wife of one of %
his sons are exposed to view. There are a great
many more private tomb chapels, some of them
quite elaborate in workmanship and of excellent
design, in which, we are told, it is permitted to
have the mass of the month’s mind celebrated for
the deceased. The new mortuary chapel in the
course of construction is a simple but beautiful
stone structure, and pretty large in size.
From the city of the dead we drove to the
Botanical gardens, which is but a short distance.
We were happily surprised by the artistic
arrangements, and the completeness of the con-
servatories. The natural beauty of the grounds
demands only a moderate skill in adorning and
enhancing them to make the garden what it is,
one of the most magnificent of the kind in the
world.
Leaving the Botanical gardens a ride of fifteen
minutes brought us to the gate of All Hallows.
Rev. J. G. Doherty and Mr. John Lovett, from
our diocese having been students of theology in
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it, we felt an interest in becoming better
acquainted with it by our visit. But it being the
time of vacation we found only one living being
in the house and he was sick; in vain did we try
to announce ourselves, and rang the college bell ;
in vain did we exercise patience to get sight of a
porter. We took our leave after inspecting the
exterior of the building and the grounds sur-
rounding it. It is a new, but very quaint and
odd-looking building, of a style which it would not
be easy to name, except that the architect did
not aim at any style in particular, for it looks
like a large, massive, unadorned structure, which
is more remarkable for its quaintness than
beauty. The grounds around the college are
spacious, but not only devoid of every ornamen-
tation, but the grand courtyard in front exhibits
neither care nor taste for the beautiful.
Our next visit was to the church of the Holy
Cross and college of the same name under the
special patronage of His Eminence Cardinal
Cullen. The college is a large, plain and beauti-
ful structure, but it is not entirely finished,
though in use; in consequence the grounds
had not received the required attention. The
church, erected for the students of the college
and the Catholics of the vicinity, is in the Roman
style of architecture, faithfully carried out in.
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every detail. It has three very handsome marble
altars made in Rome; the sides of the church in
the interior are adorned with very fine paintings,
illustrative of the Holy Cross scenes from the old
and new testaments, and the ceiling of the same
is handsomely frescoed. The whole impresses
the visitor as a model church. Upon the occa-
sion of the consecration of the church you may
remember His Eminence Cardinal Franchi, Pre-
fect of the S. Congregation of the Propaganda in
Rome, honored Cardinal Cullen with his pres-
ence, surrounded by all the Catholic Bishops of
Ireland.
Returning to the city, the smiling sun had set
and the banks of dark, threatening clouds indi-
cated plainly that we would be treated to a
thunder storm before we arrived at our hotel.
You may be sure we were not disappointed, for
it poured rain in torrents before we reached our
destiny.
The very name tells of the sacrilegious robbery
of the only grand structure — the St. Patrick’s
cathedral — in the city of Dublin. It bears all
the marks of genuine antiquity in its exterior
grandeur and interior Catholic finish. But at
present it is the cathedral of the Episcopal
Protestant Bishop, and the church of Protestant
worship of which they make St. Patrick their
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patron! — for the most solemn condemnation of
which the saint in his lifetime would most will-
ingly have suffered martyrdom.
The new cathedral of the Catholic Archbishop
is a very plain church edifice of a very moderate
size and without a tower. The other Catholic
churches in this city share in the modesty of the
new cathedral, and are but small and unsightly
temples of God; but the new church of the
Sacred Heart on the other side of the river
.Liffey is pretty large and a handsome structure.
The Dublin castle, the official palace of the
Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, is truly more
remarkable for its size than architectural beauty.
The former Irish parliament house, now the
Bank of Ireland, is one of the finest buildings in
the city, having a splendid colonnade of Ionic
pillars in front. Near by is Trinity college, an
imposing modern structure of the Corinthian
order. It is attended by a large number of
students; has two libraries, one of 130,000 and
the other 20,000 volumes, and a pretty good
museum. The Four Courts is a massive stone
building stretching 500 feet along the King’s
Quay on the river Liffey, and having a beautiful
portico of heavy Corinthian columns, the center
surmounted by an immense circular “Lantern”
having twelve windows, and twenty-four Corin-
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thian columns. The whole looks heavy and
sombre, yet it is one of the most imposing
buildings in the city.
We visited the industrial school in charge of
the Christian Brothers a few miles out of the
city. There are about 700 boys in the institu-
tion, the order observed perfect, and the indus-
trial department admirable, the chief branches of
which are painting, tailoring, boot and shoe
making, carpentering, blacksmithing, etc. After
we had gone through the several work-shops, in
which the boys were busy at their work, we
were conducted to the central play grounds, and
a young officer came forward, blew the military
bugle call and remained standing at his post.
Presently a procession of the 700 boys marched
out into the grounds. The young bugler blew
the signal for the drill, which was performed
with charming precision and was interesting to a
little excitement. The next signal from the
bugler was for the brass band, consisting of some
thirty boys from 10 to 16 years — 16 being the
age of the leader of the band — and they played
several pretty difficult pieces of music, in which
they displayed admirable good taste, great facil-
ity in execution, and a remarkable musical talent.
Upon the signal given by the bugler, these re-
tired and another class of at least thirty musicians
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stepped forward — it was the orchestra or band
of stringed music. I felf almost sorry to see this
band take the stand, knowing the great difficulty
in avoiding the tortuous scratchings on the string
instruments, fearing that their efforts would
be much inferior to the brass band. But we
were delightfully disappointed, for the perform-
ance was highly creditable — one of which a band
of older musicians might not be ashamed.
We gave them a day of recreation and
furnished them means for a little extras, and the
young bugler gavd the signal for the return
march of the cheering boys. c. H. B»
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XXVII.
Belfast, Aug. 12, 1877.
In former days I had heard much of Drogheda
from persons who had spent a great deal of time
visiting there with some very intimate friends,
and that tempted me to stop. It is a small city,
but rather romantically situated, and judging
from its general aspect, it seems to enjoy a
fair share of vitality. We saw the four churches
which are very plain edifices, though the two
new ones are rather pretty, yet of no artistic note.
The stores are not very extensive in size or
business, but have an appearance of thriftiness
about them, especially on the principal streets.
The dwellings in this city are generally not very
large, the majority of them in the remoter streets
are indeed rather small, but they all look as if
they had been taken care of, and as if cleanliness
is here considered a virtue. We learned that
the great races would come off the following day
and that was a signal for us to move on, lest
someone might possibly suppose that the event
had brought us to the city. The next city of
interest is Dundalk, north of Drogheda. The
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two principal streets are each one mile in length,
and a market place in both of them; the court
house is built in the Doric style of architecture
with a massive portico in front; the older houses
are of stone, but the more modern con-
structed of brick. The Catholic cathedral (so-
called) is a very beautiful structure and the
only one of any merit. It is somewhat of a manu-
facturing town, having observed a foundry in
which machinery and agricultural implements
are manufactured, pin, match and starch factories
and a pretty extensive distillery.
We paid a hurried visit to Lisburn, which,
among the several cities along the railroad
between Dublin and Belfast, looks the most
prosperous. The manufacture of the finest
linen is not the least of its trade, here you see
the system of bleaching the linen in perfection.
There is but one Catholic church in the town
and the public spirit is sufficiently unkind to
prove that there is a remnant of the Hugenot
poison left.
Arriving at Belfast we engaged a cab to take
us to the “ Royal Hotel ” to which we had been
recommended on account of the religion of the
landlady, she being a good Catholic. The cab
and jaunting car drivers are a . peculiar race of
men — very good drivers, very attentive to the
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m
passengers, very inquisitive, full of the gab and
witty. As soon as his horse was started on a
trot, he turned to me, saying: “I’m proud yer
honor was in no dread to come into the midst of
the riot ! ” I had taken pains in watching the
progress of the reported riots in this city and
found in the “ Freeman’s Journal of Dublin” that
“Quiet and order had been restored.” 'You
may, therefore, imagine our surprise at the unex-
pected compliment of our driver. He* however,
had no sooner discovered his mistake than he
added: “I’m sorry, yer honor, that the storm
ain’t over, but ye need not be unaisy, for the bat-
tle is not in this end of the town.” Coming to
the hotel we were a little annoyed, being told
that the house is crowded and we will have to
ascend to the third story. It is situated in a
central position in Donegal place, opposite to the
Linen hall and only one square from High street,
the principal business thoroughfare of the
northern metropolis. Here we find an astonish-
ing difference in the aspect of things; here the
life and activity of the many great cities on the
continent and in England are re-enacted. The
rush of every branch of business, the thronged
streets, the fresh and clean looks of the people,
the elegant stores and the grand display of goods
in the show windows, the profuse display of
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fashion on the streets and on the promenades, all
conspire in the impression that there is a happy
degree of prosperity reigning here. There is
scarcely a vestige of the wretched intemperance
and ragged poverty of Which I made mention in
my former letter, and I sincerely hope we may
not see again. After dinner I put myself in
charge of a jaunting car driver, for he declared
he was familiar with his Lordship’s palace, which
proved true. But we did not find the Rt. Rev.
Dr. Dorian, the Bishop of Belfast, at home, and
leaving our card, we returned to the city, a
ride of about four miles from the hotel.
About two hours later His Lordship Bishop
Dorian called on me at the hotel, extended a cor-
dial welcome and at once insisted on my staying
for the dedication of his new cathedral. His
Lordship had sent word to the reverend pastor
of St. Malachy’s, the church nearest to our hotel,
and Rev. Fr. Brennan soon came to extend his
welcome and invite us for dinner on the next
day.
This city has the reputation of being the first
city in Ireland. First by no means in its histor-
ical antiquity, as such it dates scarcely two
hundred years ; but first in commercial prosper-
ity. This, it seems to me, ought to be readily
conceded. It is also an extensive manufacturing
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223
city, which is not the least contributing source of
its prosperity. Besides the manufacture of linen,
for which it is renowned in America and Europe,
the manufacture of cotton goods is carried on in
the most improved manner and on a grand scale.
The four great shipyards furnish lucrative and
permanent employment to many mechanics; the
four large foundries employ many men, and in
like manner the several other branches, i. e. : the
two large distilleries, the twelve breweries, the
several large flour mills, the two vitriol works,
the felt manufactory, the saw mills, etc. They
all do their share in maintaining the life and
prosperity of the city. It is claimed that over
five thousand large vessels annually enter the
port of Belfast, some thirty-five steamers ply reg-
ularly between this city and London, Glasgow,
Liverpool, Carlisle, etc., etc.
St. Malachy’s church is a large but an unsightly
building, offering not an excuse for architectural
beauty. Originally it was built for the crowd of
poor people in the low grounds ; but, whilst they
are not excluded, the thrift and perseverance of
the once poor people have enabled many to rise
to an honorable competency, and they appear in
the church now as respected citizens. The paro-
chial residence stands a little back from the
street on the left gospel side of the church and is
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a spacious brick building. Punctual to the hour
we entered the residence of Rev. Dr. Brennan
and were delighted in again meeting His Lord-
ship Dr. Dorian, who had arrived before us and
joined the dinner party at 3 o’clock. In the
course of the conversation we related the rather
strange observations made during our morning
walk in exploring the city. I remarked that I
had been greatly edified by the true Catholic
spirit manifested by the people in town, by the
uniform reverence at meeting a priest on the
streets. But we had met with a very strange
exception, for in most of the streets the people
did not only look at us with a sullen surprise, but
in some instances they frowned from feelings of
bitterness. At this moment all eyes were rest-
ing on us in great astonishment. His Lordship
asked: “But pray, Monsigneur, where were
you?” Not having paid attention to the name
of the streets, I related that having gone from
our hotel to High street, we concluded to become
acquainted with some of the minor streets and
turned to the right, again to the left, and walked
on through several streets until we came to an
out-of-the-way market. “ My God ! ” exclaimed
Father Brennan, “you were at ‘Shank’s Hill’
and in the very camp of the enemy, and it’s a
wonder you were not stoned.” Seeing the dan-
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ger to which we had unwittingly exposed our-
selves, I answered Dr. Brennan: “Well, at that
rate, I guess we will have to forgive them for the
frowns and sullen looks.” This created a general
mirth and the scare passed away. After the
usual formalities after dinner, His Lordship bowed
himself away, having invited us to meet the
several Bishops, who had arrived, for dinner to-
morrow at 5 o’clock p. m. at’ the Palace. We
determined on an afternoon walk instead of going
to rest, but we made sure not to return to Shank’s
Hill. We turned our direction to the several
cotton mills, were charmed with the grand buzz
of the machinery and pleased with the simplicity
and solidity of the building in which this
important branch of industry is carried on. The
time had passed so pleasantly that we were a
little surprised to find the hundreds of young
women streaming out of the factories and hurry-
ing home for refreshments and rest.
Among the arrivals at the Royal hotel were,
the Most Rev. Dr. McGettigan, Primate of all
Ireland; the Most Rev. Dr. O’Reilly, Bishop of
Liverpool, and several of the reverend clergy
from the distance. This furnished us a charming
recreation for the evening, and we very reluc-
tantly accepted the challenge to retire for the
night’s rest at a late hour.
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At the first great dinner given to-day by the
Most Rev. Bishop of Belfast, he was not disap-
pointed in his anticipations of having many of the
invited and announced prelates present and mak-
ing it an introductory reunion. There were fif-
teen Bishops assembled, among them the Most
Rev. Dr. McGettigan; the Most Rev. Dr. Croke,
Archbishop of Cashel; two from the United
States of America, and one from England.
There were about twenty invited priests at din-
ner. At 5 o’clock p. M. everything was ready
and Rt. Rev. Dr. Dorian, and Most Rev. Dr.
McGettigan led the way, grace was said and the
serious work commenced. Rt. Rev. Dr. Dorian
opened the speech making by a very handsome
little address of welcome to his distinguished
guests; similar little speeches were indulged in
by many of the prelates; even the two American
Bishops felt compelled to respond to the frequent
flattering allusions made to them and the Ameri-
can Episcopate. It was nearly 9 o’clock when
the party rose and went back to the parlors,
and a quarter of an hour later all the guests took
affectionate leave and began to disperse.
Most Rev. Dr. McGettigan, Rt. Rev. Dr.
O’Reilley, Rt. Rev. Dr. Golbary, U. S. A., and
your humble servant were in the same carriage
returning to the city. W e had to pass through the
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lines of the two belligerent parties and this fact
created some uneasiness, which increased to almost
a scare when our carriage stopped and we saw
ourselves surrounded by a thousand 3 r oung
women whose aprons were filled with boulders.
The driver jumped from the seat, entered into a
whispering explanation with one of the armed,
and a gentle command caused the female com-
batants to file right and left, and we drove home
without further molestation. We had but little
time left for mutual entertainment, it being io
o’clock p. M. when we returned to the hotel.
c. H. B.
\
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XXVIII.
Belfast , Aug. ij, i8jj.
Fearing that my last would prove tedious, I
resolved to delay the report of the great event of
yesterday for this letter. On account of the
rioting continued in the Shank’s Hill portion of
the city, the Mayor judged it prudent to caution
the Rt. Rev. Dr. Dorian adding, unfortunately,
that he could not be held responsible for good
order if the celebration took place. The reply of
His Lordship was characteristic: “Permit me to
request your honor not to be alarmed, the cele-
bration will take place, order will be maintained.
But I pledge my honor, that if we are disturbed
to-morrow by the mob, every Protestant church
in this city will be in ashes in twenty-four
hours.”
We drove to the new church at 9 o’clock on
Sunday morning (the 12th inst.) knowing from
experience that all parties are inclined to arrive at
the latest moment. There were eighteen Bishops
assembled and about sixty priests, who formed a
procession according to their respective dignities
and rank. The procession of the clergy began
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229
to move .at io o’clock, and arriving at the front
door of the new church and forming a semicircle
His Grace Dr. McGettigan in full Pontificals
stepped forward and commenced the solemn
blessing of the new temple, according to the pre-
scribed ritual. The four streets leading to the
church were literally packed with people, the
great majority being young, healthy and strong
looking men, their mien expressing not less
determination than earnest devotion. All
remained quiet and perfect order prevailed dur-
ing the ceremony of the blessing.
As soon as the church was thrown open it was
rapidly filled with the devout of the female sex,
the men crowding the aisles. But the vast assem-
blage of the young men remained standing
shoulder to shoulder in the streets, the hats off,
bending their knees upon hearing the signal for
the elevation, etc. From this it became evident
that they had stationed themselves there to main-
tain good order, which his honor the Mayor
could not guarantee. In this they were so suc-
cessful that not the least disturbance occurred.
The Most Rev. Dr. McEvelly, Bishop of Galway,
being blessed with a beautiful voice and a culti-
vated musical ear, was the celebrant of the sol-
emn Pontifical high mass, assisted by a full corps
of officers, which in addition to the eighteen
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Bishops in cope and mitre, and the sixty
priests gave the whole an impressive solemnity.
After the first gospel His Grace Dr. Croke
preached a well prepared and most eloquent ser-
mon on the “Dedication of the Temple of God.”
The voice of Dr. Croke is but of a moderate
compass, yet clear and distinct. His gestic-
ulation is dignified and at times rather vehe-
ment, and on the whole pleasing, but as an
artistic elocutionist he is hardly mediocre. But
the subject of the discourse, the development of
the same, and the whole as a composition elicited
great admiration. Haydn’s Mass, No. 6, with an
excellent orchestral accompaniment, was well
rendered, and the singers acquitted themselves
very creditably of their respective parts. A Miss
Meenan sang an alto solo, “Ave Maria,” in which
she proved herself to be the possessor of a voice
of extraordinary compass, taking G in the bass as
easily as G in the second octave of the treble,
singing within the two octaves with a fullness,
power and skill that established her the queen of
the day. Miss M.’s power of voice and her art in
using it were confirmed in the Offertory-piece, in
which the tenor sang so shockingly “false” that
the whole threatened to be a failure. But she
managed to cover the mistake so successfully that
only one of the Bishops, none of the clergy and
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231
surely not many of the congregation discovered
the blunder.
The collection on that day was an important
item, and at the offertory the celebrant and min-
isters and all in the sanctuary remained seated
until the collectors had returned with their well
filled baskets. Bishop Galberry and I were
sitting on the gospel side in the sanctuary, in full
view of the vast congregation. Imagine our
consternation on seeing one of the collectors step
into the sanctuary, presenting his basket to each
of the Bishops, and the handsome rolls of bank-
notes proved they were prepared for it. Such a
thing never happens in the United States of
America, and, hence, we suddenly found our-
selves in an unpleasant predicament. Contrary to
my custom at home, I was delighted in finding a
few English sovereigns in my pocket and quickly
handed Bishop Galberiy one of them. This
saved our embarrassment a little, and a slight
blush of humiliation was the penalty. In conclu-
sion after mass, the Rt. Rev. Dr. Dorian rose
from his throne and made an eloquent address
to the people, in which he expressed his great
gratitude for the munificent collection taken up,
stating that the amount, together with the fees at
the door, amounted to over £2,500 sterling
($12,000). Talk of poor Ireland after that 1
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No matter what array of Archbishops, Bishops
and priests you could assemble for the dedication
of a church in any one of the largest cities it
would simply be folly even to hope for such a col-
lection in rich America. We were informed
that the collection taken up at the dedication of
the new cathedral at Armagh equaled this. The
service over and not intending to attend the din-
ner to be given in the seminary, I drove back to
the hotel and found that it was half past three
o’clock in the afternoon. It was a bright day
and the weather so delightfully cool that the
church was not uncomfortably warm, notwith-
standing the immense crowd of people in it for
five hours on the 12th day of August.
The city papers declare the new St. Patrick’s
cathedral “One of the finest churches in the
United Kingdom,” and no doubt, it is a handsome
structure. It is built in the Roman style in the
form of a cross and constructed of a very fine
quality of limestone. It measures 126 feet in
length and 102 feet in the transcept, the whole
appearing in good proportions. The site of the
land did not permit greater dimensions.
This evening His Lordship Dr. Dorian gives
the third and last dinner to his distinguished
guests, who may remain that long in this city.
Among the several other churches in the city
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St. Peter’s is one of the larger and decidedly the
most beautiful, the rest being very plain and
unpretentious buildings. Having spent nearly
one week and having had the honor of forming the
acquaintance of so many of the worthy Hier-
arch}' of Ireland within that time, we have con-
cluded to accept the invitation of His Grace Dr.
McGettigan of going with him to Armagh where
we hope to arrive this evening. c. H. b.
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XXIX.
Armagh, Aug. 17, 1877.
The distance from Belfast is about thirty-three
miles and direct railroad communication, the only
unpleasantness being the change of cars at the
junction of P£tadown. Here we were delight-
fully surprised in seeing Mr. James Flattery and
family on the platform waiting for the train from
Dublin. They are from the city of Detroit and
have spent nearly one year on the continent and
in Ireland.
Armagh, as you know, is a very ancient city,
for its first cathedral was built by St. Patrick in
455 and the Saint held the first Diocesian synod
in this city in 448, the decrees of which are
called “St. Patrick’s canons” and still extant.
The city is situated on the sloping sides of a gentle
eminence, the summit of which is crowned by
St. Patrick’s cathedral, it forming the romantic
center of a cluster of hills and mountains sur-
rounding it. It is no wonder that the ancient
Celts and St. Patrick selected this as a “Sacred
spot,” worthy to be consecrated to Him who by
the creative “Fiat,” called into being the beauty
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■of the place and the grandeur and majesty of the
surrounding scenery.
The landlord at the hotel Charlemont, at which
we stopped, informed us that there are two Cath-
olic churches in this city : the new cathedral,
which we observed on our arrival and is now
pointed out to us; the second is the old chapel.
Our informant now pointed to the upper portion
of the city. Starting out for a walk, we looked
about for the old chapel, and seeing but one
church which bore the unmistakable signs of
genuine Catholicity, we felt satisfied that we had
found the old chapel. We had agreed with His
Grace before parting that we would say mass at
7:30 this morning. We started in due time,
came to the church, found the iron gate locked,
and going to the rear or sanctuary gate it too,
was locked and not a sign of life about it all.
At a little distance I observed some men at work
repairing the street, and, stepping* forward, I
inquired of a man when the doors of the church
would be open.
The good man eyed me all over and replied,
“I think yer Reverence is mistaken; sure, there is
no mass in that church; come and I’ll show ye
the chapel.” We were, innocently, it is true, in
the act of taking possession of St. Patrick’s cathe-
dral, the foundation walls to-day being the very
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“AS THE BISHOP SAW IT."
same which were built by St. Patrick — the
sanctuary for centuries in keeping of the disciples
of Ireland’s apostle, and the many saints who
hallowed it with their prayers, and who here pre-
pared themselves for their eternal triumph in the
sanctuary of the Lamb. It is a grand old structure
in the Gothic style of architecture, 183 feet long
and built in the form of a cross, having a tower 150
feet high. This accounts for my astonishment
last evening when looking at this building I said :
“If this is the old chapel, it seems a pity for His
Grace to have built the new.” But we had
failed in our worthy enterprise and submissively
followed the young lady to whom our informant
had committed us, down the hill until we came
to the real old chapel. Here every door was
opened and a happy little congregation was
assembled to hear mass. Everything being pre-
pared, I went immediately to the altar, prepared
for mass and very soon I was invited by one of
the priests to commence. At my mass some
thirty persons received Holy Communion, and
for a week day this was a proof of solid
devotion.
The new cathedral stands on the summit of a
hill, some higher than that of the old, nearly at
the extreme end of the city towards the railroad
station. It is a lofty and imposing structure,
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237
built of stone and in the pointed Gothic style;
while it appears more graceful and conspicuous,
yet it wants the solidity, massiveness and vener-
able antiquity of the old St. 'Patrick’s.
This city is said to be strongly protestant on
account of the many humiliations it received in
the repeated contests for its profession of faith.
But, withal, at present, fully one-half the popula-
tion is Catholic, the number of inhabitants being
from nine to ten thousand'.
In Belfast Mr. M. had invariably declined ac-
cepting any invitation for dinner, excepting the
first of Rev. Fr. Brennan, but on our journey to
this city he had formed such acquaintance and
taken such a liking to His Grace, Dr. McGettigan,
that he cheerfully accepted his invitation for four
o’clock to-day. Upon our arrival at the humble
Episcopal palace, His Grace, in company with five
priests, extended us a cordial welcome, urging
us to remain with them as long as possible. His
Grace took Mr. M. into his special charge, a
kindness which so surprised and flattered the
old man, that he delights in rehearsing the noble
qualities of the Archbishop. After the dinner
His Grace made a pretty informal speech, to
which I was obliged to reply in a similar informal
way. This gave me the desired opportunity
for a pleasant revenge “ for the speech in Liver-
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pool.” Giving a gentle hint they all called for a
speech from Mr. M. Arising reluctantly and
stating his inability to address such an august
company, he thanked them for the compliment
and finished by saying: “Permit me the pleasure
of stating that I have had a high regard for
the Irish people, since my acquaintance with
them, and that during my business career, among
my best and most staunch friends have been the
Irish.” Of course I took pleasure in reminding
him of his unkind speech in Liverpool,
but the kindness, the generosity, the nobility
witnessed within the last fortnight had so charm-
ingly impressed him that he had entirely forgot-
ten his former ideas, (or felt ashamed to father
them). He insisted that the Irish people, in par-
ticular the clergy, are the best in the world.
On the morning of the 15th, a holy day of
obligation here, I said the eight o’clock mass,
immediately after the mass of His Grace, and
was delighted that the Rev. Rector and I con-
tinued giving Holy Communion to the people for
over thirty minutes. Even at this early mass
the church was crowded to its utmost extent, and
that by people who appear in comfortable cir-
cumstances in life, and are animated by a devout
Christian spirit.
Our visit to Armagh was delightful, the kind-
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ness received noble, and everything well calcu-
lated to leave a favorable impression. This
afternoon we will start on our journey for the far
famed province of Connaught, intending to stop
in Mullingar over night for a better rest.
c. H. B.
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XXX.
Galway, Aug. 18, i8yy.
It was half past seven in the evening, when
we arrived in Mullingar and' were lodged in
McCormick’s Hotel. The landlady bade us wel-
come and promised to provide the best rooms for
us at her disposition. The servant girl on the
second floor was startled by seeing us, muttered
some apology, and hastened down stairs. In a
few minutes she and the landlady hastened up
and we were shown into a fine front room which
served as a private parlor to the adjoining bed-
room. But the servant girl grew in her convic-
tion as to our character, during the little time
she spent arranging the things in our rooms.
The evening being rainy and disagreeable we
settled down after supper for the rest of the eve-
ning. Presently we were delightfully surprised
by the excellent music discoursed by the military
band.
At a very unholy hour, four o’clock in the
morning, I was awakened by an unearthly con-
fusion of sounds, that I studied for a long time
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and without success. What under the sun could
the thing be? Such an everlasting quacking,
such never-ending crowing, such murderous
screaming and fluttering, and interminable cack-
ling, it seemed as if the ducks, chickens, roosters
and geese of creation held a monstrous mass meet-
ing. There! listen to the squealing and the
gentle bleating of the herds — Et horrende dictu!
— the ominous and torturous brayings from hun-
dreds of unpolished throats. I jumped up in the
midst of this horrid concert, rushed to the
window looking stealthily through the blinds,
discovered to my great satisfaction that we were
in the center of the great poultry market. The
miserable little donkeys, who indulged in that
tedious song, so indicative of themselves, were
hitched to carts loaded down with chickens,
ducks, geese, sheep and pigs. It was the first
market of the kind I had ever seen, and there-
fore soon felt pacified about the disturbance
and pleased with the sight. Mr. M. shared the
same fate of being disturbed in his sleep, and
having risen early, he gladly accepted my invita-
tion of going out and inspecting the “Poultry
fair,” as it is called.
Returning from our devotional exercises of the
morning, Mr. McCormick met us as we were
entering the hotel and kindly took charge of Mr.
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M. After a few minutes Mr. and Mrs. McCor-
mick and their little family accompanied my old
friend up stairs to my room. They all fell on
their knees, asked for a blessing and thanking
me, they all returned with the usual courtesy of
reverence. After they had left, my old friend
explained that the servant girl last evening had
told the landlady that one of the gentlemen up
stairs is either a Bishop or a priest of great digni-
ty, and that Mrs. McCormick came down to
him saying that she shared in the girl’s opinion.
Therefore he begged him to favor him with the
information, which he did, and brought the
whole family to my room. Our breakfast
(which did great credit to the house) was served
in my private parlor, and the landlady insisted
on dividing the honor of waiting on us with the
very kind and attentive servant girl. Now we
were ready to “do the city.”
The several ruins extant of the former noble
and flourishing ecclesiastical institutions attest
the antiquity of this city. But the Mullingar of
to-day, neither in its public buildings nor private
houses, nor church edifices indicates its ancient
history. All has the appearance of newness and
a good share of solid prosperity. It has but one
spacious and long business street — the very one
on which the public fairs are held. It is quite a
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railroad center for the several roads branching to
the north, east, west and south, and that, no
doubt, adds greatly to its prosperity. His Lord-
ship Dr. Nulty, Bishop of Meath, who resides
here, had not returned from Belfast. The
Catholic church is the finest and most spacious
structure in the city, yet of no artistic merit.
All the other churches are very plain and mod-
est buildings for use and not for ornament; the
same may be said of the other public buildings.
The immediate surroundings of this city are not
particularly interesting, but the landscape scen-
ery along the railroad line from Armagh to Gal-
way in its many variations is as beautiful and at
times as grand as any we have seen in any coun-
try. To this the lakes of Erne, of Oughter, of
Sheelin, of Owel and of Ree, which form the
brilliant mirrors of the scenery, contribute their
full share. Although the mountains here are not
towering in the sky and their summits rest not in
the playful embrace of the bright clouds, nor
are threatened by the convulsive fury of the dark
thunder clouds, yet the grace and beauty which
they reflect, the cheering verdure which envelops
them, the floral profusion which perfumes the
atmosphere, give the picture a charm seldom sur-
passed. The imaginary ruin or ruins are not
needed; the real, the beautiful and the grand old
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ruins abound in the midst of these scenes; yes, if
the artist is only faithful in the copy, the land-
scape will be perfect and challenge admiration.
The moors are abundant in the vicinity of these
lakes, and the manufacture of turf seems to be an
important business, judging from the many
smaller and larger pyramids of turf all along the
road. After the surface earth has been removed
the first layer of turf soil is of a whitish color,
the second a dark brown, but the third layer at a
depth of six or ten feet is jet black and makes a
very solid cake of turf of the best quality. In
this section of the country the turf-making seems
to be the business of women, who do the digging
and wheeling, but the children pile them up for
drying in the same way as fresh brick is piled up
in America.
Athlone is an interesting town on the railroad
line, nearly evenly divided by the famous river
Shannon, and near to lake Ree. The east half
of the town is in the county Westmeath, the
west half in the county Roscommon. It is said
that the first bridge ever built in Ireland by
Thorlough O’Connor, king of Connaught, in
1140, was the one across the Shannon at Ath-
lone. There are four Catholic churches in this
town and several Protestant places of worship.
The two so-called Protestant or Episcopalian
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245
churches are under the protection of the govern-
ment. The military barracks, the ordinance
yard, the magazines, the armory and the hospital
are important features in this town.
Galway, perhaps on account of the line of
ocean steamers established between it and the
United States, had gained admission into my
imagination as a large, thrifty and grand old city.
It proved a great delusion and disappointment.
In former centuries it was quite a maritime city,
enjoyed an extensive foreign trade, especially
with Spain. But all this is of the past, and the
failure in establishing the ocean steamship line
has extinguished the last ray of hope in its resur-
rection, and what is worse, sunk the last
“ Pound ” of spare capital. The trade of the city
is carried on in a way to make a person fancy
that those good people have entirely too much
time on their hands, on the part of the seller as
well as the buyer. The city is pretty evenly
divided by the river Lorrib, leaving the west
side a village called Claddagh, inhabited by a
peculiar and primitive race of people. Standing
at the front window of our hotel, Mr. M. seemed
to be in solemn contemplation of some subject,
which he finally revealed by the remark, “My,
gracious! I did not know that they had Indians
in this country.” He had accompanied His
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Grace Dr. Purcell, of Cincinnati, to Cross village
and saw the half-civilized Catholic Indians in our
Diocese. Stepping up to him and looking out of
the same window, I noticed that both the men
and women of Claddagh in Galway dress and
•appear exactly like Indians.
We had been informed that about ten tons of
salmon are annually taken out of the river Lorrib ;
but I had not formed a remote idea of what
I saw in this city every day. The whole of the
river is literally packed with large fishes, not less
than two feet long, and they stand so firm and
solid that they cannot move either backward or
forward, and it is but necessary to put your hand
into the water, take a firm hold of one of those
large and beautiful fish and throw it ashore.
From this it is easy to infer that there is a heavy
fine on the taking a salmon out of the river in
this season.
Calling on His Lordship Dr. McEvilly, the
Bishop of Galway and coadjutor to His Grace
Dr. McHale, Archbishop of Tuam, we received
a wholesouled welcome. Dr. McEvilly having
made excellent studies and finished the pre-
scribed course with great credit, and being the
esteemed president of the Ecclesiastical Semi-
nary of Tuam, is a man of no ordinary erudition.
He is acknowledged as one of the ripest scholars
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247
of the Irish Hierarchy. He kindly invited us to
dine with him and enjoy the pleasure of meeting
all the priests of the city at the Palace. There
are but four churches in the city and all of them
very plain humble structures, and they are
served by four parish priests and seven curates.
The religious educational institutions, in particu-
lar the Academy of the Sisters of Mercy, seem to
be in a flourishing condition. The parochial
schools, taught by the religious and supported by
the government, were numerously attended, man-
ifested good discipline and merited the praise of
the reverend pastors. c. h. b.
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XXXI.
Limerick, Aug. 20, 1877.
As soon as we entered the county Clare
on our way to Ennis, the general aspect of
things began to brighten. The northern por-
tion of this county is rather hilly and rocky, but
towards the center the land appears good and
the cultivation of the same appeared as if the
people had made up their minds to have a decent
crop.
The town of Ennis did not signify much in
former years, but the railroad communication
has given it new life, and such an impetus to
trade that it leaves a happy impression on the
stranger as a live place. The Catholic church,
called the Bishop’s parish church, is a large, plain
edifice; the Episcopalian parish church is only
remarkable on account of the grand old ruins of
the Franciscan abbey of 1240, which stand there
as a solid testimony of the impious robbery of
this property by Protestantism.
But having passed from Clare into the county
Limerick, the soil proves much richer, the coun-
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try looks cheerful and the people seem to be
more happy.
My first experience in the city of Limerick
was a little unpleasant. I inquired in vain for a
covered cab, and was obliged to take a jaunting
car for my visit to His Lordship’s Palace, two
miles from the city. Rt. Rev. Dr. Butler not
being in the palace nor in the city, I returned
in the soaking rain and with an abominable coat
of mud. We are informed that there are 44,000
inhabitants in the city of Limerick, and having
communication with the sea by the river Shan-
non, its trade is lively, the display of commercial
activity considerable, its harbor adorned with
several large sailing vessels loading and unload-
ing for home and foreign markets. The general
impression of prosperity is confirmed by every-
thing in and about the city.
It is believed that the old cathedral of Limer-
ick had been erected on the very ground on
which the Palace of King O’Brien stood. It is a
massive, heavy looking structure, moss clad and
sadly in need of repairs, the square tower remain-
ing without the intended sign of redemption as
its summit crown. It has shared the fate of all
the most valuable monuments of ancient Catholic
zeal in this country, and remains to-day in the
hands of the descendants of the sacrilegious rob-
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bers. The new cathedral is in the extreme end
of the city, called old town, and does not claim
any architectural beauty, though a solid edifice.
The church of the Redemptionist Fathers is
the most imposing church edifice in the city,
built of stone, large in size and located on the
most prominent street. The new church of the
Dominican Friars is much smaller than that of
the Redemptionists, but it rivals it in beauty, and
is also pleasantly situated. The Augustinian
Friars have converted the old theater into a very
good temporary church, and being centrally
located, it proves quite desirable and convenient
for the Catholics at home and the strangers visit-
ing the city. The reverend Fathers of this
ancient and venerable order received us with
every possible courtesy, extended profuse kind-
ness and one of the fathers was appointed our
guide in making the rounds of inspection in and
about the city. As Bishop Galberry had been a
member of the Augustinian Friars before his
appointment to the See of Hartford, Connecticut,
and being still interested in the good and noble
work of the order, he was a welcome guest in
every monastery, and we had the pleasure of
again meeting His Lordship here. He is accom-
panies by the Rev. Thomas Synnott, a native of
Ireland, but one of the worthy priests of the
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251
diocese of Hartford, and truly a pleasant, agree-
able and delightful traveling companion. This
adds anew to the delight of our trip, and not a
little to our enjoyment in Ireland.
The weather continues charmingly pleasant
and cool, though the incessant rains mar the
enjoyment somewhat until the secret is revealed
that a sound drenching in this country is not
followed by a dangerous chill or a fearful cold,
as it usually happens in America. To date we
have had only one bright, clear day in this month
and many of the other nineteen days were rainy
from early morning till a late hour in the even-
ing. The use of umbrellas is among the rare
luxuries in Ireland, consequently it is not in use
among the lower, seldom among the middle
classes, and not frequently among the gentry and
nobility. The females of the first order employ
one of their skirts as a substitute, of the second
class use the shawl or skirt for the same purpose,
but the third and fourth substitute a peculiar
water-proof cloak as a protection. This at once
explained the oddity of very honorable Irish
women in America, who create no little amuse-
ment to the young and old by walking the streets
in a thunder storm of a sweltering day with a
blanket shawl or a winter cloak thrown oveihtheir
heads. They imitate the gentry in the old
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country. The heat being very moderate even in
midsummer, the men wear pretty heavy clothing
and in consequence do not heed an ordinary
shower of rain, and those in better financial cir-
cumstances are protected by robes of frieze,
which effectively resist a pretty heavy storm of
rain.
Before parting with our esteemed American
friends, we agreed to meet them again on St.
Augustine’s feast (August 28) in the city of
Cork, and join in the celebration of the feast with
the Augustinian Friars. c. H. b.
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XXXII.
Cork, Aug. 24, 1877.
You may recollect the story of His Grace the
Archbishop of Cincinnati, who was chosen an
arbiter between a mother and her son. The
son had engaged himself to marry an estimable
young lady, and informing his mother of his
intention, she vehemently objected to such a step.
The young man, having exhausted his arguments
without satisfying his mother in the least, sug-
gested to go to the Archbishop and that they
both should abide by his decision. Both being
seated in the parlor of His Grace, the mother
advanced the several reasons for her objections
to the marriage of her son to the young lady in
question, clinching all in the following words:
“And, My Lord, what is worse than all, she is
a bloody Corkonian ! ”
As soon as His Grace had recovered from the
shock he asked:
“Well, my good woman, what do you think of
me ? Do you think me a pretty good man ? ”
She promptly replied, “Yes, My Lord, you are
a good and holy man.”
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“But, my good woman, I must inform you
that I am a Corkonian ! ”
This so calmed the mother that she unhesitat-
ingly answered:
“Then, My Lord, in the name of God, let
them be married ! ”
Here we are in the city of Cork, and as
regards population, wealth and commerce it
ranks second of all the cities in Ireland. It lies
in the center of a valley, surrounded by hills of
various, but moderate elevations and the scenery
which environs it is as replete in variety as it is
beautiful. The picturesque river Lee flows
through the heart of the city, and is crossed by
nine very fine bridges.
His Lordship Dr. Delaney, Bishop of Cork,
resides in a simple Palace on the banks of the
river Lee, about three miles from the city. It is
situated on a bluff of the river bank, command-
ing a charming view of the surrounding country
for several miles. I secured a cab and drove out
to pay my respects to His Lordship, but did not
find him at home. The beauty and grandeur of
the scenery beheld from the summit of the hills
over which we were driving was superb, the
city in the valley, on both sides of the river looks
cheerful and handsome, the whole makes a
more pleasing and happy impression than any
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city we have visited in Ireland. Our next drive
was on the opposite side of the river for the
purpose of seeing the Queen’s college. It is on
the brow of a beautiful hill, the grounds sur-
rounding it are tastefully arranged, the buildings
are solid and artistic, and everything well calcu-
lated to make the institution attractive. The
views again spread out before us as we returned,
were as delightful and charming as they had
been from the other side of the river.
His Lordship Dr. Delaney ha'd hastened to
x return my call and was at the hotel on our
return. He extended an invitation to dine with
him at 5 p. m., which we accepted.
We next enjoyed a walk through South Mall
and St. Patrick street, and along the river Lee
where the warehouses and wholesale business
establishments are, and rejoiced in beholding
everything so bright, that the conviction grew
on us of the fair prosperity of the city, and the
majority of its inhabitants. It is true, however,
that in the suburbs and many of the minor streets
and lanes, there is a sad evidence of poverty and
an apparent wretched. disorder among the people.
None of the public buildings in this city struck
us as being of any architectural beauty, though
several of them are somewhat imposing on
account of their dimensions and massiveness.
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By the advice of Rev. D. O’Meara, of Mobile,
Ala., who is a native of this city, we took
the train to Black Rock station, which is within
a ten minute walk of the Episcopal palace, and
were delighted, being introduced by His Lord-
ship to the six priests invited to join us in the
enjoyment of the dinner. One of the reverend
gentlemen was the Vicar General, one the Dean,
two were Canons and the other two parish
priests. As it is customary, after dinner some
speeches were indulged in, and I am happy in
recording that Rt. Rev. Dr. Delaney is remark-
ably felicitous in his extempore after-dinner
speeches. Having spent a delightful evening in
this charming clerical company, we boarded the
10:15 train and arrived at a late hour at the
“Royal Victoria.”
Our first excursion was to the far-famed lakes
of Killarney, which we greeted in a drenching
shower. The railroad from Mallow to Killarney
follows the valley, displaying a mountain scenery
on the left which fills the traveler with ecstatic
admiration. The heavy clouds now hovering
over the summits of the mountains, now envelop-
ing them in their angry embrace, now playfully
sweeping over and exhibiting them to full view,
seemed to sport in displaying nature’s grandeur.
The town of Killarney indulges in only one prom-
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inent street, one respectable hotel and one plain
stone structure, the Munster bank. The generality
of residences and houses are very modest edifices,
yet very solid, and, no doubt, comfortable. The
lakes are from ten to fifteen minutes drive from
the town, and the principal hotels are on their
borders. Among the highly recommended was
the “Royal Victoria,” which we selected, no
doubt, in anticipation that it would compare
favorably with the one of the same name in the
city of Cork. In this we were soon undeceived,
for we were informed by the landlord that the
house is full, and that but one room in the third
story could be spared for both of us. The rain
continued to pour from the clouds, the omnibus
had left, and we had not the courage to mount
one of the several jaunting cars standing ready to
carry passengers; hence, we concluded to accept
the offer made and stay. The third story (gar-
ret) room happened to face the lakes and we
enjoyed the charming views spread out before
us, from our windows for several hours. It was
a succession of indescribable grandeur, and the
variety in the majestic marvels of light and shade
would have enraptured the artist and baffled his
skill and genius. In particular, at the moment
when a heavy, distant rolling of thunder directed
our attention to the clouds as dark as midnight,
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and seemingly not a hundred feet high, encircled
the mountains, at times dividing and dissolving
into a haze, which floated down to the foot of the
mountain; at times the summit of one and the
other would be lit up by the brilliant rays of the
sun, whilst the enraged flashing of the lightning
was spending its fury from the intense dark-
ness which enveloped the other mountains. It
seemed as if all the elements conspired in display-
ing the magnificence of the picturesque scenery
encompassing the lakes of Killarney. A person
coming from the region of the great lakes bor-
dering the shores of Michigan, and familiar with
the thousands of inland lakes in the state, far
more extensive in length, width and depth than
these, sees nothing to admire in the insignificant
expanse of water in the lakes of Killarney. The
domains about the lakes belong to the Earl of
Demesne, who has spent a fortune in laying and
keeping in repair the splendid roads in every
desirable direction to and from the lakes. The
park on the western side of the lakes, in the
centre of which is the palace of the Earl of
Demesne, is a model of landscape gardening, a
gem of beauty, and open for the enjoyment of
visitors, together with the extensive deer park,
in which several hundred of the “ Fleet-footed ”
sport. They are divided into three distinct
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259
lakes. The entire length is nine miles, and the
greatest length three miles. They are dotted
with forty-two small islands, which greatly add
to their beauty. The driver of our car
proved to be a man of original humor, and
seemed supremely happy in entertaining us with
the many “Munchhausen-like” adventures and
the endless legions and ghastly stories in connec-
tion with the lakes. As a token of his good will /
he volunteered to drive us to the summit
of the mountain on the opposite side of the lakes,
“ from where yer honor will see the whole coun-
try.” Here, sure enough, we made the dis-
covery that the grand scenes, which we had
admired for nearly forty miles along the railroad
line to Killarney; and, from where we were now
standing, continued some twenty miles more
to Tralee, are a stupendous chain of mountains,
sixty miles in length.
On our return from the lakes, we stopped over
in the town of Mallow, the birthplace of His
Grace Dr. Purcell, Archbishop of Cincinnati, O.
It is a town of about 5,000 inhabitants, situated
on the romantic banks of the river Blackwater,
which winds its course along the chain of
mountains above mentioned. By name His
Grace was known to everybody, his friends were
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few, and of his relations, only one, a blacksmith,
announced himself a cousin.
I do not flatter myself having fairly introduced
you to Cork or Killarney, yet I am obliged to
conclude this letter, owing to the late hour of the
night. c. H. b.
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XXXIII.
Cork, Aug. 38, 1877.
Our excursion to the village of Blarney proved
not the least interesting event. We had been
informed of the disappointment of the many
visitors in finding the castle and its grounds
closed against all. On that account, I sent my
card and note to the agent on the previous day,
requesting the privilege of seeing the scene of
many historical events, but did not receive an
answer. It is a delightful drive of four miles,
and we were resolved to see all we could of the
famous place.- For that reason we turned off
from the road to drive all around the castle
grounds before coming to the front gate. We
were amused to see our friends, Rt Rev. Dr.
Galberry and Rev. Thomas Synnott, at the gate in
the act of turning back disappointed. Alighting
from the car and shaking hands with them, they
told me that it would be simply useless to give
myself the trouble of persuading the young
woman who acted as gatekeeper. Notwithstand-
ing this discouragement, I addressed the good
woman, who politely favored me with the
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expected refusal. She held a card in her hand,
and eyeing it closely I discerned it to be the one
I had sent to the agent.
“ Pardon me, madam, whose card do you hold
in your hand ? ” I asked, and she replied by the
question :
“ My Lord, is it your card ? ”
Answering in the affirmative, she unlocked
and swung open the massive gate, saying that we
had full liberty to see the grounds and castle.
Of course Bishop Galberry now belonged to our
party and. he drove into the grounds. The well-
preserved ruins of the ancient castle stand on an
isolated limestone rock at the junction of the
rivers Blarney and Comane. It was erected in
the 15th century, as attested by the Latin
inscription on the far-famed “Blarneystone.”
This is on the northeast angle of the castle, about
fifteen or twenty feet from the top of the building.
It had been broken, the two pieces were held
together by a heavy bar of iron. The stone
stairway leading up to this stone of magic qual-
ities is in a good state of preservation and we
experienced no difficulty in ascending. But
having reached the highest point, we were aston-
ished to find the mystic stone entirely out of
reach, and the oft repeated ceremony an impossi-
bility. The proper salutes were made by one
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263
and all, and we came down well satisfied, having
“Kissed the veritable Blarney stone.” Beneath
the castle there are several interesting caves,
which we took pleasure in exploring, and the
extensive and pretty laid-out groves, surrounding
the new castle of Blarney having been surveyed,
we took leave of the good woman in charge of
them by the looked for gratuity of half a crown,
for which she showered thousands of blessings on
us.
As we came back to the front gate, we were
surprised by the disappearance of our jaunting
cars, but the young woman stepped forward and
pointed out an Inn a few rods distant, to which
they had gone to feed the horses. We expressed
our gratitude to this woman by giving her a half
crown piece, for which she, too, favored us with
many blessings. Coming to the inn the young
landlady, dressed in Sunday attire, met us at the
door, conducted us up stairs and begged us to be
seated at a table sumptuously supplied with
refreshments. Our driver had learned from the
gate-keeper who we were, and was now at his
best to do himself honor. Of course, we ordered
suitable refreshments for him. Whilst we were
resting and enjoying the excellent lunch, we
heard some loud talking, and among other things
our driver said:
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"AS THE BISHOP SA W IT."
“ Of course, you wouldn’t be let into the
grounds with a lot of dirty preachers, but if you
had gentlemen of high standing, as I have, you’d
have no trouble getting in. Mike let us drink to
the health of the gentlemen I’m driving.”
The village of Blarney has but a small, poor-
looking church, and numbers not quite 300
inhabitants.
The feast of St. Augustine, the patron saint of
the Augustinian Friars was celebrated with great
solemnity, His Lordship Dr. Delaney assisting in
Pontifical robes. Dr. Galberry and I occupying
seats in the sanctuary, surrounded by all the
priests of the city. The convent chapel, as it is
called, is a pretty handsome and large church,
but on this occasion it could not accommodate
half the people who desired to attend the
services.
The Bishops and priests were all invited to
dinner at five o’clock in the monastery, which
was a sumptuous affair, and did great honor to the
Augustinian Friars. Vespers had been announced
for 7:30 p. M., and, consequently, no speech
making.
We had the pleasure of meeting Messrs. Bar-
rett, of Bay City, Mich.; Flattery and son, from
Detroit, Mich., and Rev. F. O’Donoghue, C. M.,
in this city. Mr. Barrett met with an accident,
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"AS THE BISHOP SA IV IT.''
' 265
spraining his ankle, which seriously disappointed
him in the pleasure he hoped to enjoy in becom-
ing more extensively acquainted with his native
country. One day he was walking along St.
Patrick’s street, when His Lordship Dr. Delaney
drove by in his carriage, and, very properly, he
saluted the Bishop, who stopped his carriage and
entered into a very pleasant conversation with
him. On the following day His Lordship
expressed his regret to me that my Vicar General
had met with such a sad accident. This will
amuse the Barrett family and friends in Bay City
if they have the good luck to hear of the event.
There is a pleasure steamer on the river Lee,
which takes the excursionists every morning
down through the various ramifications of the
Cork harbor. We joined the party one fine
morning at io o’clock and spent a delightful half-
day in the enjoyment of the many charming
scenes, the almost innumerable islands, the grand
fortifications, the magnificent magazines and mil-
itary storehouses, and the gloomy and isolated
islands, the prison for great criminals which is
called Spike island, and below the great island
on which is Queenstown. The new cathedral, in
course of completion, is a beautiful structure in
the Gothic style and it seemed too large for all
the inhabitants of Queenstown. They have
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“AS THE BISHOP SA W IT."
taxed the charity of both America, Australia and
Ireland, for this church edifice, and it may be
considered to be about half finished. From a
business point of view this city would appear
tolerably prosperous, yet poverty abounds, but
the situation of the city with its romantic and
picturesque surroundings is enchantingly beau-
tiful.
His Lordship Dr. Delaney has insisted on Rt.
Rev. Dr. Galberry and myself, in company with
our American friends, honoring him with our
presence to-morrow at 5 o’clock at the farewell
dinner which he proposes to give, and we could
not refuse.
We engaged our return passage on the “City
of Berlin” a month in advance and the disap-
pointment of Mr. J. F. and family in obtaining
passage, proves our prudence to have been well
exercised.
In Queenstown on the “City of Berlin” we
will meet Revs. S. and A. of our party, and from
here Rt. Rev. Dr. Galberry, Revs. Synnott,
O’Donoghue and O’Meara will accompany us on
the morning of the 30th of August for Queens-
town and our return home. Adieu ! c. H. b.
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THE
MEMOIRS
OF THE LATE
Rt. Rev. C. H. Borgess, D. D.,
WILL CONSIST OF
FOUR VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
“As the Bishop Saw it.”
VOL. II.
Biography.
VOL. III.
Selected Sermons.
VOL. IV.
Pastoral Letters.
The remaining volumes will be issued in due season.
F. A. O’B.
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